


When Death is Working

by MA477LL



Series: Transmigradas [2]
Category: Amar a Muerte (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-10-10 17:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MA477LL/pseuds/MA477LL
Summary: Valentina works as a journalist. Juliana is preparing for a major show. Both are too busy with life complications and perhaps, letting their love slip through the cracks between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This follows after my other "Transmigradas," story, in terms of where they are in their lives, but you can read the stories independently, I think. This one is a bit darker, with too much plot, and some angst. I don't know what this is, a thriller? 
> 
> There's a happy ending, I promise.

Juliana felt her headache getting worse as she entered their apartment, blood pulsing painfully behind her right eye.

She took off her heavy winter boots, glad to be out of them. Her socked feet felt cold against the heated tiles, and for once, she was happy that León had paid for the extravagant flooring.

“We don’t need heated floors, Val,” she had almost hissed, as she pulled Valentina to follow her into the kitchen, when the construction workers had appeared behind León. “We agreed to split all expenses halfway.”

“Juls,” Valentina had frowned, “I know, and I’d _never_ buy this without consulting with you first, you know it,” she had whispered as she looked towards León, the older man already giving instructions to the workers in the other room, “_pero es mi papá_.”

That had sobered up Juliana. Valentina _always_ respected her boundaries. She had no right to ask the people in their lives to toe imaginary lines in the sand, just to respect her own sense of independence.

It was hypocritical of her. She _never_ questioned any gift from Lupita.

She had looked down, embarrassed, rubbing her face against Valentina’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, _neta_,” she huffed, “I can’t believe I’m still so uptight about money,” she had kissed Valentina’s shoulder, “forgive me?”

Valentina had grabbed her around the waist, turning them so her back was to the door, and Juliana's body away from sight, and then, she had given her a full kiss, tongue and all, “maybe,” she had smiled, “ask me again tonight.”

Juliana shook her head, dispelling the memory, as she hung her jacket by the door and walked gingerly down the corridor, trying not to move her head. The heated floors helped. She knew she was stubborn, but she could also acknowledge her gratitude towards León. It _was_ nice to walk in socks or bare feet around their flat.

Also, Valentina deserved _all_ the comforts in the world.

She must not allow her pride to get in the way of that, not when she would not be able to provide that for her if they had to count only on her own hard-earned income.

Juliana had been on her feet all day, attending one meeting after another with temporary staff she hired just for the occasion. Many of them were acquaintances and friends she made around the business, who kindly agreed to work for her on a Saturday, even though it was their day off. They were all beyond excited, planning Juliana’s upcoming participation in one of the associated events surrounding the New York Fashion Week. Her name was not yet big enough to gain a slot in the main runways, but she would be taking part in a couple of shows around them, which was almost as good. The press back in Mexico City had been hounding her for reports on the preparation for the shows, and she was starting to feel the pressure.

She needed a Valentina-sized shot of confidence.

She knew her colleagues did not truly understand it, but she always showed her designs first to Valentina. If Valentina liked them _for herself_, she knew they would be a success. It was only logical, she thought, given that she designed her clothes, shoes, or accessories with an audience of one in mind.

Valentina being the muse to all her creations.

“But I like all your designs, _mi amor_,” she had pouted the first time Juliana sat down with her to look over her designs and drafts.

“I know you do, Val,” she had smiled, “but you like, _like_, some of them more than others, right?”

“Well, it’s more whether I can see myself wearing them, versus, I don’t know,” she had laughed, “Evangelina,” and she had rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

Then, she had suddenly clapped her hands, the lighting of excitement thundering, body shaking with it. She had jumped on Juliana, pushing her back into the cushions until Juliana had no option but to lie on her back, with Valentina sitting on her lap; excited as mischief filled her eyes “Juliana,” her voice had taken a singsong tone, “love of my life, light of my days, future mother of our five wonderful children-,”

Juliana’s eyes had widened at the number, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she whispered, “¿_cinco_?”

“_Cinco_,” Valentina had confirmed and continued, unperturbed, “you _have_ to promise me that you will design a dress that at first looks and fits marvelously, but that after, say, an hour in, it starts pinching your waist terribly, or-, or it makes your boobs shag!”

That had surprised a laugh out of Juliana, “I will _not_ use my talents for wrongdoing.”

“No, dummy,” Valentina had laughed, leaning over to kiss Juliana’s nose and then, moving back to sit on her haunches, legs on both sides of Juliana.

She had gesticulated wildly as she explained, “it would be pinching Eva’s waist, Juls! It would be amazing, I don’t know, it’d be like donating money to save the Amazon! A gift to humankind,” she winked comically, both eyes closing as she lowered herself fully on top of Juliana on the sofa, not letting the other woman escape from her arms.

Juliana smiled as she remembered their conversation, and decided against taking anything, hoping that the headache would not develop into a full blown migraine if she went to bed early. That January had been much colder than the last, and for the first time in their three years in New York, she was getting the full winter experience. She took a long hot shower and changed into her pajamas. She wanted to go to sleep with Valentina by her side, the brutal pace of the last few weeks making her feel more needy than usual.

Valentina had explained once about serotonin, and Juliana had known exactly what she meant; the way her chest would open, goosebumps rising all over her body whenever Valentina ran her hands over her skin, somehow simultaneously managing to calm her spirit and arouse her body.

“Val, turn that thing off and come to bed,” she almost whined, shivering a bit in place.

Valentina had been watching CNN all afternoon, following the events that were unraveling in the streets of Venezuela. She had taken over their living room, her laptop, notebooks, and papers filling the coffee table. Juliana could see half of an uneaten sandwich, and two empty cups of coffee lying on the table, among the mess of clippings and pens.

“One minute, _mi vida_.”

“You said that half an hour ago,” Juliana said somewhat grumpily, eyeing the bottle of mezcal that sat half-empty on the floor. She was sure it had been much fuller that morning, when Valentina had arrived at 7AM, after working all night in the newsroom. As far as Juliana knew, she had only stopped working to take a short nap. Val had replied to one of her afternoon messages excusing her late reply, sending a cute picture of the left side of her face, marked where she had fallen asleep lying on top of a spiral-sided notebook.

Juliana waited, leaning on the door to the living room for a couple more minutes, but seeing Valentina still hunched over her laptop, writing frantically, she shook her head and walked to their bedroom. She moved around the room, throwing away the patterned cushions that covered the bed and pulling back the comforter in Valentina’s side of the bed with more force than strictly necessary. Then, she sighed in frustration and threw herself on the bed face first.

She did not like it when Valentina got so involved into the developing news that she pulled all-nighters and forgot about-, well, she forgot _about her_.

_Don’t be a cry-baby, Juliana_.

She was not sure why it bothered her so much, whether it was only about not having Valentina paying attention to her, which she knew was childish and beneath her, or if she was also worried about Valentina. She did not take care of herself properly when she got like this. Since she got the promotion at the New York Times three months ago, she had been struggling to balance her job and their private life, being always busy, pulling all-nighters and taking home quite a bit of work.

_Worse_. She had started to drink heavily.

Valentina drank when she was upset. Juliana knew it was a copying mechanism.

It made her uncomfortable, but she was yet to bring it up. It was not because she was afraid of confrontation. Juliana had led a tough life and she did not mince her words when she had to. But confronting Valentina was virtually impossible. It was like a roadblock made of concrete impeded her thoughts from becoming words, and they simply bypassed her mouth on the way down to becoming needles that speared her chest.

She would usually deal with it by hoping it would disappear in time.

This did not seem like a problem that was going to go away on its own.

Valentina was slowly spiraling into murky waters, pulled under by a strong current, while Juliana stood ashore, helpless and ill-equipped to help with her remedial swimming skills.

Juliana needed to _practice_ this conversation before she could allow herself to have it.

And so, she had tried to talk things out with her mother before attempting to raise the topic with Valentina. It sometimes helped, to force herself to lie out her ideas into a single stream of coherent words, even if just to hear them out loud, instead of mulling over them in her head until they became quick sands that swallowed all rational thought.

“It’s just, I don’t know, _ma_. The work at the Times is all consuming, and Valentina,” she stopped, “you know her, she’s throwing herself into it-, well, the way she _does_.”

Lupita had nodded, eager to help, but never truly understanding the subtle dynamics between her daughter and Valentina, her own failed relationships her only reference point, “but that’s good, _no, mi hija_?” she smiled gently grabbing her chin, “that she’s good at her job?”

_But she’s losing sight of me_, she thought, but felt silly, for being jealous of a _job_.

Her own work as a designer took her away from Valentina often.

_But she’s all I think about_, screamed a voice inside her.

She just shrugged, finally, and only said, “yeah, you’re probably right, _ma_.”

No, she sighed in frustration, talking about it with Lupita had not helped.

She still found herself in bed, alone, with the starting of a migraine, while Valentina was in the living room, working on her article and probably drinking herself into a stupor.

She punched the pillow and turned to lie on her back, arms wrapping tightly around her own body. She blinked to clear her eyes, a tear slowly making its way down the side of her face, tickling her ear where it landed.

She breathed deeply, trying to push back at the burning in her chest.

The bed moved when Valentina finally joined her, much later. She had not been able to go to sleep, headache only getting worse. Too stubborn to get off the bed and go fetch some medicine, when Valentina was still up in the living room, ignoring her.

A hand went around her waist, Valentina’s lips finding her pulse point and kissing her there lightly, nose pressing against her ear.

She turned her face away, upset, but not before Valentina noticed.

“Juls, are you crying?”

_You reek of mezcal_, she wanted to say.

“I’ve-, it’s just a headache. I’ll get some ibuprofen,” she said instead, as she stood from the bed and walked to the kitchen in the dark.

xxx

[MADRID. SPAIN. TEN WEEKS EARLIER.]

The phone illuminated the darkness of the room when it beeped.

The short-haired woman turned over in bed, pushing the covers away and extending her arm to reach for the phone. She blinked at the word that flashed across the screen.

_ACTIVE._

“Oh, _por los clavos de Cristo_,” she frowned as she flopped back in bed, “not _again_.”

Three hours later, dressed in a dark woolen suit and a black shirt, she entered the offices of the TIA building in Madrid.

“_Mexico Lindo_ is active,” the agent on duty at the front desk told her as the doors of the lift closed behind her. She lowered her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and regarded him over their frame, eyebrow going up.

“Really.”

He blinked and looked away, feigning to look at something in his computer screen.

She allowed herself a small smirk as she took off her glasses and placed them on her desk, looking around. The office was busy for this time of day, all desks occupied.

It was not even 7AM, but she knew that ACTIVE messages like the one that woke her up that morning went out to all node operatives. Everyone had obviously rushed to the central office as soon as they received the notification. She regarded them, assessing them, as they also looked back her way. They had collectively stopped what they were doing when she entered the office, awaiting her command.

_Good_. This is a good team.

She made eye contact with a few of the senior team members, while she noticed that a couple of the junior ones still struggled to keep their eyes level with her.

“Command office, full team, 8AM sharp,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. Then, she turned to the most junior member of their team. “Lopez, rookies are in charge of coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he stood up, “sir.”

Her hand rose up in the air, “don’t call me ma’am,” she gave him as smile, “or sir. Much less _both_ in the same sentence.”

“No, sir, I mean, ma’am, sir,” he blushed bright red as he stumbled over the words.

She could see him struggling with himself. He kept his eyes on her, though, heels digging in and chin raising slightly in the air.

She liked the kid.

“Dolores,” she said, “call me Dolores.”

xxx

She entered the command office a few minutes before 8AM, taking her time to get a coffee and a croissant. “Nice coffee,” she complimented as she moved to the laptop that was placed at the end of the desk and took a seat. A few rapid keystrokes later she was logged in and opening the files she wanted to show.

She stood up at precisely 8AM, addressing the room.

“This will be a short briefing, as most of you are already familiar with our operation.”

There were a few nods, but also, a couple of agents moved forward in their seats, glad to get information from the agent in charge.

“As of this morning, December 3rd, at 3.13 AM CET, _Mexico Lindo_ is the most active node of the network, _ever_,” she felt the thrill of excitement that went around the room. “Fifth event in 28 years,” she let that settle in. “It’s protocol not to have information about prior events on file, so this is your chance to ask questions. All information is _viva voce_ only and held under lock in the central system. Most of you haven’t had access to any files, nor will you.”

All eyes were on her as she continued.

“The node first went active in 1992. It took almost fifteen years to figure out what course of actions it had set forth. It went active again in 1999, and then, in 2005. The third event allowed our intelligence in Washington to determine that all three events were linked. That’s when the _Mexico Lindo_ operation was created. Most of you have been with me since then.”

Dolores had been in her late twenties at the time. At almost forty-five and having moved through the rankings to become commander of the operation in the last few years, she was at the top of her field. She paused, remembering the men and women that had been lost in the field.

She took a moment to swallow.

“We lost ten operatives the fourth time the node became active, in 2018. It was one of the largest single events in recent history, involving the transmigration of three souls.”

She could see the looks of amazement from the rookies in the room.

A picture of a woman came up on screen, “in addition, three very valuable operatives went inactive. Silvina Gutierrez, code name_ Chivis_, had infiltrated the Carvajal family and was one of our oldest operatives, she was planted with the family around 1998, when Washington finally settled on the short list of 30 people that could be related to the 1992 activation event.”

She showed another picture, of a much younger Silvina, carrying in her arms a baby Valentina, and a more recent one, hugging the girl at her mother’s funeral.

“Silvina’s status is now inactive, indefinitely. Our records suggest she inadvertently got in the course of the event, may have had some influence in how it developed.”

Everyone in the office cringed inwardly. This was the worst thing that could happen. One of the rookies shifted in his chair, unsettled.

“Quiet,” Dolores said firmly. “She was an _exemplary_ operative and provided invaluable data _for years_. Her case is being studied to improve the training of future operatives and better calibrate roles of infiltrated agents.”

Silvina had been a _legend_ in their node.

To Dolores, she still was.

But she _knew_.

You could not live this life, this long, and remain detached indefinitely. She knew the job could break anyone. Herself, included.

She moved her shoulders back minutely, centering herself on the here and now. She pushed on the clicker to show the pictures of two other women: a journalist at _El Centro_, and a barista from Perlita’s restaurant.

“Two other valuable operatives requested a reassignment,” she made eye contact with every agent in the room. “I’m proud of both. They did the right thing,” and here, her voice went deadly serious, “I shouldn’t need to remind anyone that this isn’t only the most active node; it’s also the most dangerous,” she did not mention the numbers, because they all knew them. The Carvajal and Valdés families led dangerous lives, shading them took a toll, and accidents did happen, but the lives of the families and what transpired in them was not their concern, they only had to watch, protect; ensure that events unfolded.

The true risk came from outside.

TIA was not the only organization following the events.

Others have existed for centuries, trying to run interference. TIA had uncovered and destroyed some of them over time, but new ones kept emerging, old enemies also regrouping and resurfacing.

They had to be vigilant.

A transmigration event as large as the one of 2018 had drawn attention, many good operatives had been lost ensuring anonymity was kept and the families protected. Their last few years dedicated almost exclusively to ensure the _Mexico Lindo_ node was secure, that events ran their course fully.

“Anyone who’s having any doubts, talk to me at the end of this briefing. You’ll be reassigned by the end of the day, no questions asked.”

Nobody moved, and Dolores could see it in their eyes.

_This_ was the node they all wanted to work for.

Some nodes went decades without action, others dispersed, died away after a lifetime of scrutiny, without ever fully understanding the life-paths the transmigration events had altered.

_Mexico Lindo_ was one of only six nodes currently active around the world.

It was an honor to be part of the operative, to work with the commander.

“Very well,” she continued. “The 2018 event was the last. We’ve every reason to believe all previous events set in motion the eventual meeting between Valentina Carvajal and Juliana Valdés,” she showed a picture of each of them, mug shots from their passports that did not do them justice.

“They are currently in New York, as you all know. Valentina Carvajal is a journalist for The New York Times, covering Latin-American news. Juliana Valdés is an up-and-coming designer, starting to develop her own name, while collaborating with a few well-known labels. Unfortunately for everyone in this room, they’ve become quite high profile.”

She took a long breath before continuing.

This part, she did not have a script for.

They still did not know anything about the activation event underway. What it was exactly, where it had taken place, how many souls were involved, and importantly, _why_ it was linked to _Mexico Lindo_, and how.

It was not uncommon for them not to know at this stage; which was not an excuse to delay action. From experience, Dolores knew that after an activation notification was received, it sometimes took weeks, even months, to get further intelligence from Washington.

It did give her a bit of time to start moving her pieces across the chessboard.

“Training new operatives to infiltrate takes time-,” she rubbed her face in frustration, “but-, but _nothing_,” she moved her hand down in a firm motion, pointing at the table, “we are now active, and so this morning, before joining you, I initiated our engage protocol. Our agent in Rosario is already up, headed towards NYC,” the screen showed a world map, a red dot blinked close to Buenos Aires airport. “I’ll be joining them this afternoon.”

That drew the attention of the group. Having Dolores on the field meant business.

“Each of you will receive orders as soon as this meeting is adjourned.”

They were eager to get started, she could tell by the sudden pulse of energy that went around the room, a few agents trying to suppress their smiles.

“Our last intelligence advised that the node may be inactive for a while, given-, well, given this,” she pointed at the screen behind her. It changed to show a picture of Valentina and Juliana walking and laughing together in Central Park, holding hands.

She took a breath and turned to face the room.

“Death is working, and so are we.”

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

The run-up preparations for the fashion week took a turn for the frantic in the second week of February. A slot opened unexpectedly on the main runway, and after a 2AM ten-minute call, a stunned Juliana found that she would be showing her collection the following Friday.

She was offered the 11AM slot, in between Jonathan Simkhai and Vera Wang. She would have to share the one-hour slot with another debutant label, but given the incredibly short notice, it suited her perfectly.

“Valentina, Val, Val!” she shouted after she hung up, almost pushing Valentina off the bed in her excitement, “Val!”

“What? What?” Valentina shouted too, “did someone die?”

“We’re _in_! We made it!”

“What? Where?” Valentina asked, still half-asleep. She woke up completely when Juliana threw herself on top of her, almost suffocating her in her excitement, “offff, Juls, _mi amor_,” she groaned finally, “I can’t breathe.”

Juliana felt like she did not sleep in days after that.

Saying she was excited would not have even touched the height of feelings that took over her. She virtually floated, flying ten feet high over Manhattan.

This was her dream. _Her chance_.

The collection was ready, but it was nerve-wrecking. She could not have anticipated the difference in pace from the side-shows to the main event. Being short-staffed, she had to take on many jobs to make sure that everything would work flawlessly; jobs that big labels with larger budgets could just outsource.

Having a slot in the main runway increased the demands on her time exponentially, both before and during the actual fashion week; her phone going crazy with notifications, calls, and text messages as soon as the official schedule updated the following morning.

Despite the frenzy that whirled around her like a cyclone, Juliana felt clear-headed and sure of herself like she never had in her life. Her voice came sure, her ideas about the pace, the music, the collection, the models, clear and precise.

It was exhilarating.

She was ready to take the world of fashion by storm.

“You’re going to kill it, Juls, they’ll love the collection, they’ll love _you_.” Valentina told her that morning, tenderly looking at her through the mirror as she washed her face and applied her makeup. Juliana reached to rub her forearm where it rested on the sink, fingers tracing veins over soft skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps as they advanced.

Valentina had dark circles under her eyes, but to be fair, so did Juliana. “I look like a raccoon,” Juliana laughed.

“More like a panda bear.”

“Hey,” Juliana complained, smiling in the mirror, “are you saying something about my tummy?”

Valentina shook her head, “the prettiest panda bear,” she whispered, “here,” she said reaching for Juliana’s chin and turning her face gently, “_ven_. Let me help with that.”

“Val,” she mumbled, “you also need to get ready.”

“Sssh,” she started to apply concealer under Juliana’s eyes, soft fingers caressing her face, “close your eyes, love.”

It was one of the few mornings they managed to get together, but this was_ the_ event of her career thus far: a successful show could make her label.

If it went well, she may get invited to show her designs in some of the side-shows at Milan or Paris, which ran back-to-back with New York. There were tentative talks and schedules, but it all hung on how her collection was received.

She only went home to sleep, sometimes, after working well into the early hours of the morning. Those days, by the time she arrived, Valentina had already left for work. Most nights, however, she was just late, and Valentina, having to be up early for her job at the Times, was already asleep when she arrived.

Juliana warred with herself, those nights, desperately needing Valentina, but not wanting to wake her just to give her a goodnight kiss.

Their lives crisscrossed around Manhattan.

With the absence sitting like a growing rock in her stomach, thoughts about Valentina intruded Juliana’s thought processes constantly. As deadlines approached, she imagined each piece of her collection on Valentina, putting together the final touches of the show. She found herself daydreaming about their date nights and movie marathons, their walks to the florist shop on 20th to get fresh flowers before making lunch together on Saturdays, their lazy afternoons, often ending making love well into the night.

She knew it was bad when she woke up two nights in a row, hot and bothered, in the middle of dreaming about Valentina going down on her.

She called and texted often, missing Valentina like never before.

Valentina missed her even more.

Where Juliana was painfully aware of the gaps in her daily life that Valentina filled with her light and laughter, Valentina felt herself sliding towards the edge of an abyss of loneliness.

Truth was, she never learned to deal with solitude, with loss.

She loathed it.

_How can something that isn’t, be?_

Turn into a balloon of empty space, a vacuum that grew and grew inside her, taking so much space that it suffocated her?

Her mother’s absence had plunged her into despair.

Almost a decade later, only Juliana’s appearance in her life had saved her those weeks when she thought her father was lost to her as well.

For as long as she could recall, she had struggled with that silent enemy, with the void it created inside her. Finding herself quick to befriend and invite people into her life who were just interested in her riches, her looks, or both, just to chase it away. Her relationships with Charles, and then, Lucho, the jewel of the crown to this particular type of failure.

The Juliana-shaped hole in her life made her keenly aware of the silence that befell her life when she was not around, of her larger than life presence.

And so, with Juliana busy for weeks, she threw herself into her work at the Times, but she felt the weight of her absence oppressing her chest, like a tightening chain of lead around her body.

The official upgrade to participate in the fashion week was both what Valentina wanted _more_ and _less_ in life: Juliana’s success meant she would be gone for weeks, perhaps longer, if she ended up travelling to Milan and Paris, on the tail of what Valentina was sure would be a tremendously successful show.

She could admit to herself that she resented Juliana’s success, and those weeks, she muddled through the terrible bipolarity of being ecstatic for Juliana, and also, underwhelmed by her own melancholic feelings.

She was not proud of herself that she drank herself to sleep a few of the nights leading up to Juliana’s show.

“Val,” Juliana whispered throatily, when she joined her in bed the Tuesday before her show.

It was already past midnight and Valentina was lying on her side, her back to Juliana. She was wearing only her underwear and one of Juliana’s old stripped t-shirts. Valentina had claimed it for herself when they first moved in together, and Juliana had decided it was simply too old to be worn outside the house, deciding to use some of her old t-shirts for rags.

“This is high quality cloth, we can reuse it.”

Valentina had only nodded, forever surprised at how resourceful Juliana was.

She had never thought of the useful life of clothes before that moment, not consciously. It made her feel like the privileged princess she had worked so hard not to be. But back in her life as Valentina Carvajal, heiress to one of the richest men in Mexico, Chivis had taken care of changing her wardrove from winter to summer clothes, and back, and if any garment was outdated, frayed or in any way disliked, it would had simply not made the following rotation.

“Poverty is a lot like eco-consciousness, Val,” she laughed, like that was not a revelation for Valentina, “you become really great at recycling,” she had winked at her then, reaching with her thumb to smooth the twin lines between Valentina’s eyebrows, smiling indulgently at her confusion.

Valentina had nodded from where she was sitting in bed, watching Juliana go over her clothing. When Juliana had pulled out her set of stripped t-shirts, she had jumped out of bed, almost tackling Juliana to the floor, and took one, “this one is mine,” she had said between laughs when Juliana grabbed on to her to avoid falling down.

It was the one Juliana had worn that day in the park, when they had the misunderstanding about the fashion school, and Juliana had walked away from Valentina, upset at not being understood.

“This? Why do you want this old thing?” Juliana had asked, eyebrows raising, bemused.

Valentina had just pulled the t-shirt to her body, a silly smile on her face, “I just do, never mind me. You go on,” she laughed and waved her hand, side-stepping her, “_sigue, sigue_.”

Juliana could appreciate the decision to keep her old t-shirt when she joined Valentina in bed that night. It was almost threadbare and felt incredibly soft to the touch as she moved against her, molding her body to Valentina’s from the back, warm hand settling against her stomach, inhaling her scent.

The touch of their bare legs under the covers was electrifying, and Juliana let out a soft moan as her hips pushed against Valentina’s backside.

Valentina turned in bed, seeking her even in her sleep, body wrapping itself on instinct around Juliana.

“Val,” she kissed her mouth, and pulled back.

Valentina tasted of alcohol.

She was not asleep; she was passed out.

Juliana flopped onto her back, frustrated, but Valentina’s body followed her, face settling into her neck, breasts pressed against her right side, trapping Juliana’s arm. One of her legs moved over Juliana’s, knee falling in the space between her legs.

Juliana trembled, aroused despite herself.

She inhaled; breathing slowly to calm her libido, but it made things worse, Valentina’s smell went into her head, invading her senses and making the pain between her legs intensify.

She shifted, trying to ease the pressure, but Valentina followed her movement, her thigh pressing more intimately against Juliana, who had to bite down her lip not to moan out loud.

She resisted for almost five minutes before she leaned against Valentina, making enough room to slip her hand under her panties, pushing them low on her hips. Her fingers moved clumsily, with Valentina’s weight pressing deliciously into her.

She needed this, and as soon as she started to rub her clitoris, she knew it was going to go fast. She was moving her fingers in quick circles, soaring, when she felt Valentina’s hand sliding down her arm, softly caressing her hand and fingers.

“Val,” she moaned, almost there, “please.”

“Shh,” Valentina mumbled into her shoulder, “let me,” long fingers intertwining with hers, dipping into her wetness, caressing, teasing.

Juliana moved her hands to the sides of her body, fingers grabbing at the bed sheets, hips raising as she came, shaking in Valentina’s arms.

xxx

Rosalia's music pounded as her models walked down the runway, yet Juliana kept looking around, distracted. Valentina’s seat, in the very first row, in the strategic place that Juliana had scouted for days beforehand and where she was sure that she would be able to see her from her place backstage, _empty_.

The show ended ten minutes before noon, just in time for people to move around before the next set. Juliana left the stage with the crowd still cheering, a rowdy section towards the left standing and clapping also throughout the show, whenever particular looks were appreciated.

It was a bittersweet moment, and she used the precious seconds she had to herself between interviews and being walked off to talk to some men who looked entirely out of place in their grey suits and ties, to send Valentina a text message:

> _Val, are you ok?_

“Hey!” a voice from the past suddenly called her attention, “Juliana.”

Her eyes opened wide, “Sergio?”

“Look at you,” he smiled as he reached to hug her. Juliana rotated her body as he advanced, managing to turn the contact into an awkward half-hug. Sergio took a step back, laughing, “just as you always were,” he beamed.

“What-,” Juliana started to ask, not knowing what to say. She regarded him and his companions, all of them banker types. “Are you with-?”

“Yes, let me make the introductions,” he turned to the two older men behind him, “these are Andrew Lehman and Mark Pelcher, I work for them at Merrill Lynch New York,” he smiled, “one of our clients is very impressed with you and would like to invest in your label,” he said. “When I learnt about it, I told them that we knew each other very well, back in Mexico City.”

Juliana shook her head, “well, thank you, I-, well, of course, I’d love to discuss financial opportunities with you,” she said to the older men, “but we can arrange to meet at a different time, maybe?” she waved her hand, pointing vaguely at the twister unfolding around them, with the mass of journalists, models, and backstage action, “right now, I’m on my way to discuss some details about a potential show in Milan, so I’m afraid I've got to rush.”

“Hey, of course,” Sergio interrupted when one of the older men tried to speak, “I’m used to you ditching me,” he laughed, “I know how much you like to play hard to get,” he winked.

Much later, Juliana still could not understand why she had not simply punched him in his smug face right then and there, in front of those business men, but in her defense, she had been thinking about Valentina, and what she needed to do so that she could go back to their flat as soon as possible.

She did not have time to deal with that cretin.

Her assistant stayed back to get their cards, and Juliana did not bother to reply, just rushed towards her meeting with Pietro Parisio, from the national chamber of Italian fashion.

xxx

When Juliana finally got home, the flat was empty, Valentina having finally sent her a text message thirty minutes ago, just a simple:

> _Be home as soon as I finish at the office._

She had felt herself tremble with fury. Only _just_ resisting the urge to throw the phone against the wall.

She needed to calm down, and so she decided to take a hot bath.

By the time she came out of the bathroom, she was feeling much more relaxed. She walked, in just a towel, to the kitchen, intend to boil some water to make herself a chamomile tea, when she heard Valentina’s keys opening the door.

She marched towards the hallway, watching in silence as Valentina failed twice to put her coat on the hanger. 

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m happy,” Valentina said, looking her up and down, noticing the amount of skin on display. She approached her and tried to move her hand under Juliana’s towel. She was swaying on her feet, boat at sea, clearly intoxicated. “Are you happy, Juls?”

Juliana did not answer.

“I think you’re_ not_ happy,” she laughed. She went to their cabinet, grabbing the bottle of mezcal, “let’s have some of this, to get in the spirit,” Valentina said, filling a glass and offering it to Juliana.

“I don’t drink,” she said curtly.

Valentina rolled her eyes, upset that Juliana was upset, “yeah, I know,” she made an exaggerated eureka gesture, “hey! we should ask Sergio to join us, maybe then you would.”

Juliana felt the comment like a stab in the chest, “¿_qué_?”

“I saw him at the show, you looked very friendly with him,” Valentina taunted, “Did you invite him back to the flat?” she looked around, “hey, Sergio, you can come out now,” she snickered in her drunkenness. “_Come out_, get it? Like us, Juls.”

She moved closer, her fingers poking again at the top of Juliana’s towel, “I don’t think he’s gay, though,” she mumbled, “he likes you too much,” and still in a lower pitch, “I hate him.”

Juliana tightened the towel around her body, swallowing.

“You were there? At the show? I didn’t see you,” she asked, still distraught, but somewhat mollified to learn that Valentina attended, even stayed long enough to see Sergio. “Why didn’t you sit in your seat? Why didn’t you come talk to me afterwards?”

Valentina rubbed her forehead, “I wanted all the attention on you,” her brow scrunched up and she rubbed it again, like she was trying to fend off a headache. She reached inside her pocket and popped a pill, something that looked like a mint.

“What do you mean?”

“If I’d sat there, tomorrow, some of the headlines would’ve been about ‘your lesbian lover,’ the heiress” she made air quotes with her fingers, as she mimicked the intonation of some of the reporters from reality shows, “certainly in Mexico, it would’ve ended being about _me_ attending your show, and then, they’d badmouth us, come to the conclusion that_ I_ must’ve paid for you to get a slot in the main runway.”

“Val, no,” Juliana said, not trying to deny the truth of it, but not caring about it anymore, “that doesn’t matter to me. You know it.”

“It matters to _me_,” she said pointing at her chest, almost splashing the glass of mezcal on her sweater. She looked down at the glass in surprise, having forgotten she was holding it. Then, she just shrugged and drank it in one go, “to _your_ show, the Juliana Valdés’ autumn collection,” she winced as the alcohol burned her throat on its way down.

“It’s_ our_ show,” Juliana whispered, hurt, trying to understand, to hold as best as she could to the pieces of herself that this conversation was tearing apart. She really felt it was _their_ show, “I only featured the collection _we_ chose together.”

She wanted Valentina there, with her. “Why didn’t you tell me? That you were going to stay at the back? You cannot know how I felt thinking you’d not come,” she confessed, voice thick with unshed tears, “the whole thing doesn’t matter if you-, if we-, if,” she did not know how to end, running out of the steam needed to keep pushing words out of her mouth, when each of them had such deep hooks into her chest they scratched her throat as she spoke them.

Valentina shook her head, “you, _mi amor_, can be very hard to resist,” she whispered, “you’d have convinced me, and I’d ended stealing some of your thunder, Juls.”

“No, no,” Juliana mumbled, but could not hear any more of this, it was breaking her heart, and so she changed topics, rallying back with something else that had been bothering her, “why are you so late anyway? The show was at 11AM, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

Making herself sick with worry, was more like it.

“Let me remember,” Valentina faked concentration, “oh, yes, that must be it, I also have a job, Juliana.”

“It’s 11PM, what could take so-,”

“It’s _my_ job!” Valentina shook her head, hair wiping to the side as she took a step closer, finger up in the air, “it’s also important, you know, actually, I’m currently working on exposing-,” her eyes opened wide, catching herself just in time not to spill it out, “anyway, it matters, too.”

Juliana and Valentina rarely argued, because the small inconveniences of life could simply not touch their shared bliss and love for each other, but just then, with the accumulated exhaustion of the weeks preparing for the fashion week, the terrible nerves of the day, the growing concern about Valentina’s excessive drinking, and the relief of having her there, in one piece, but still so _incredibly_ stubborn and defensive, Juliana felt her temper slipping through her fingers, like tears in the rain.

“Well, if that’s all you care about, maybe you should go live over there, in that office, with your-, your girl toy,” she said louder than she intended to speak.

“What,” Valentina said, her own voice also changing, sharper. “Who do you mean.”

“That girl that works for you taking the photographs, Val. She’s in love with you.”

“Luciana? She’s twelve! _What_ are you talking about?” Valentina hands pressed against her hair, messing it in frustration, “are you freaking serious right now? Do you really think I’d-, what? That I’d cheat on you?” she whispered the question, voice lowering as she kept speaking, eyes searching Juliana’s, whole body language shifting.

Juliana was just upset.

She had shown her collection in one of the mayor runways at the New York Fashion Week, to great success, and she had thought that Valentina had not been there. Seeing Sergio had also thrown her, his words sticking to her like an ugly, disgusting gum that had been chewed and spat on her fine clothing.

She had not thought about the specifics, “cheat?” she trembled, seeing the pain in Valentina’s eyes, the hurt she had caused, “no, I-,”

“Well, if you-, I cannot believe this,” Valentina also shook in her feet, clearly upset, but not wanting to get into a fight when she was not one hundred percent sober, “if you-, if that’s what you think-, if you trust me this little, maybe it’s best I go,” she walked towards the door, her anger sobering her.

She grabbed her bag and her coat, and walked out, slamming the door.

“Wait, Val,” Juliana said, opening the door and following her all the way to the stairs, but she was only wearing a towel. She did not even have shoes on.

“Valenti-,” a sob made her choke, and she gasped the word, “Val.”

She walked numbly back to the apartment, closing the door behind her. Then, she pressed her back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

She hugged her knees to her chest and allowed herself to cry.

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Valentina thundered down the stairs, taking them two at a time and almost falling on her face when she reached the ground floor. She marched towards the front door, but instead of opening it, she pressed her forehead to it, the glass fogging as she breathed into it.

She pulled the handle. Then, let go of it.

The porter looked on, wondering whether she may have had too much to drink, _again_. He had seen her arrive on unsteady feet more than once in the last few weeks.

Finally, he asked her after she pulled the handle a few more times, “are you going out, Ms. Carvajal?”

“Yes,” she said, shaking her head no. “No, no, I’m staying.”

She turned on her heel and walked back up the stairs, much slower than on the way down. She arrived at their foyer and hesitated, “you’re an irredeemable idiot, Valentina Carvajal,” she berated herself under her breath, “_andale, ya_, go in and beg forgiveness.”

She knocked on the door lightly, and rolled her eyes, _right, because she’s going to hear that_. Then, she took out her keys and entered, “Juls?”

“Juliana,” she whispered when she saw her, sitting on the floor and hugging her knees to her chest, body shaking with the force of her sobs. She immediately closed the door and dropped to the floor, crawling on her hands and knees until she was next to her.

“Val,” Juliana managed to say between sobs, “Val, I’m sorry, _neta_.”

“No, no, no,” Valentina said, instantly contrite, arms going around Juliana, pulling her into her chest, the towel getting almost lost in their tangle of limbs, as Valentina kneeled awkwardly, sitting on her bended knees and pulling a half-naked Juliana into her lap, “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

She kissed Juliana’s forehead, her cheeks, her lips and eyes. Everywhere she could reach as she squeezed her, trying to pull her into her own body. “You know I always say stupid stuff, _pendejadas_.”

Juliana burrowed into Valentina’s chest, as Valentina’s arms continued to caress her arms and back, the towel no longer covering much of anything. When Valentina’s fingers inadvertently touched one of her breasts, Juliana shook in her arms, moving her face to make eye contact. A trembling hand moved to caress Valentina’s face. It was also wet with tears, “let me get dressed, and we can talk?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, petting Juliana’s hair with equally shaky hands, “whatever you want, Juls.”

Seeing Juliana like that had scared her. This was the last thing she wanted for them.

Juliana stood, covering herself, and reached a hand down, helping Valentina up. As soon as she stood, Juliana encircled her waist with her arm, walking them both to their bedroom. Valentina felt grungy. Making Juliana cry had soiled her spirit. 

“I’m going to take a shower, is that ok?” she asked.

“Of course, I’ll make us something warm to drink.”

The silence between them felt a bit awkward when Valentina finally entered the kitchen. But in this, Valentina’s education served her well.

One did not get to be the heiress to the Carvajal empire, with all its drama, without becoming an expert in awkward social occasions. She could hear Eva’s voice in her head, “you just move through it, Vale. Don’t let them know it bothers you.”

Juliana was seated, holding a pink ‘I love NY’ mug, a matching one resting next to it, filled with some sweet-smelling infusion. It was a small kitchen, but they had managed to get a breakfast bar to one side, and Juliana had bought two high backed stools with her very first salary. In turn, Valentina had bought them the pink mugs as a gag gift, but Juliana had loved them, and used them often.

It made Valentina smile, thinking of a conversation they have had years ago: Juliana _did_ love to have breakfast, and insisted they both sit down together in the mornings. It was one of the many things Juliana had really missed the last few weeks: starting the day together, drinking coffee in their silly mugs in their little kitchen and talking about the day.

Valentina pulled the other highchair, and sat as close as she could to Juliana, thighs and hips and shoulders pressing together. It made Juliana smile, and she felt instantly comforted.

Juliana reached to touch the tips of Valentina’s long hair, playing with it.

Valentina felt her heartbeat slow down. When things were bad with Juliana, she would avoid Valentina. If Juliana was touching her, if she did not pull back, it could not be that bad. Still, this was one of the worse fights they have ever had. Not the worse one, but it had left them both reeling. Valentina reached across the breakfast bar, grabbing Juliana’s other hand where it rested, cradling it softly between both of hers, and bringing it to her lips, to kiss her knuckles.

“I miss you,” Juliana said in a soft voice, moving her head to kiss Valentina’s neck. “We live together, but we never see each other anymore, Val.”

“I know, I feel the same way.”

“When I didn’t see you tonight, Val,” she took a shuddering breath, voice filling with tears, “it’s like a light went off inside my head. I didn’t care about the applause, whether people liked the show or not.”

Valentina choked a bit on her words as she tried to reply. “I’ve failed you, _mi vida_.”

“No, no, you _were_ there, right?” she needed reassurance, to hear the confirmation.

“I was, to the left of the runway, at the top,” she whispered, “with a bunch of Mexicans I rounded up, I got them to stand and clap for almost all of your designs,” Valentina confided.

Juliana laughed lightly, eyes sparkling a bit, “it was _you_,” she said, “I kept wondering what was going on over there,” she shook her head, “but Val, I was a complete disaster, couldn’t really talk to any of the journalists that interviewed me. They’ll think I’m a diva.”

Valentina moved an arm around Juliana, pulling her closer and kissing her cheek, “they’ll think you’re mysterious and un-flapped by success.”

Juliana snorted, “right.”

Valentina kissed her lightly below her ear, “we’re going to do better,” she shook her head, “_I_’m going to do better, Juliana, _te lo juro_.”

“Me too,” Juliana said and lifted her pinky finger, making Valentina’s eyes fill with tears as she closed her own finger around hers.

They smiled at each other, the gesture settling deep between them, bringing with it an out-of-proportion wave of shared relief.

Juliana turned the contact into a handheld, leaning back a bit, creating some space between them. Her eyes rested on Valentina, as she finally, finally said what had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks, “you’ve been drinking.”

Valentina was silent for a long time.

Juliana was still holding her hand, their bodies pressed together in the tiny kitchen, sitting side by side. Valentina let out a breath, and pulled Juliana’s hand, until it was resting against her heart.

“I have. With you-, with us-,” she shook her head, trying to order her thoughts, “us, being apart, and the article I’m working at the Times, I’ve just felt weird, out of control, I guess,” her lower lip trembled a bit, “I went to the doctor at the clinic-,”

“Val,” Juliana breathed.

Valentina shrugged her shoulders, “he gave me something to lower my blood pressure, but it’s making me feel down, and-,” she sighed, “alcohol helps, you know?”

Juliana shook her head, uncomprehending, alcohol had _never_ helped her.

Indeed, as far as her own limited experience went, it had only ever made things _worse_.

“But I’m going to stop, Juls.”

“Val, I’m here for you, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“If you’re feeling stressed, or burnt out,” Juliana caressed her arm lightly, “I can listen, try to help, go with you to the doctor, whatever you need,” her arm went around Valentina’s slim waist, hugging her to her, “please don’t push me away.”

Valentina turned in her chair, sliding to the floor and hugging Juliana more fully, “I won’t, _mi amor_,” she whispered, “I need you more than anything.”

“Me, too,” Juliana said, “I love you.”

xxx

That night, Valentina watched Juliana pack her bags for her trips to Milan and Paris, “next year, I’ll take my annual leave during the fashion weeks, and I’ll come with you to at least part of the events, how’s that?”

Juliana stopped packing and went to sit next to her, grabbing her hand between both of hers.

“I’d love that,” she smiled, close to tears, “You know I don’t want to go, right? If you want me to stay, just tell me. You’re more important than any stupid collection.” Things were feeling raw, both of them feeling exposed to the bone after their fight and talk.

“This will keep for a few days, Juls, please don’t worry. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

“None of it matters more than you, Val.”

“Shh, just go impress all those Europeans. Show them how things are done.”

Juliana laughed quietly, “just please, keep me updated on what’s happening with you here?”

Valentina nodded, “I will.”

xxx

Juliana flied two large cases, containing the best of her collection. First to Milan, then Paris.

She did not have time to choose the models, and she could not afford to fly anyone over, so she had to trust that the organizers would follow the instructions she put together and e-mailed them hastily, which included a list of twelve names in order of preference. She thought sending a picture of Valentina would be overkill, so she did her best to describe her without being too obvious, in case none of her preferred models were available.

Since she met Valentina, she had gone on a few trips, and taking a plane was no longer quite the adventure it would have been five years ago. Still, in the rush, Juliana forgot to pack an electrical adapter, and more critically, her pajamas.

“I’m having to sleep in my underwear, Val,” she whined over the phone.

Valentina laughed, delighted, “are you telling me this to make me even _more_ upset than I’m all the way over here?”

She arrived to Milan on Wednesday, did two private shows on Thursday, and was interviewed for a feature on up-and-coming designers on Friday. On Saturday she took the day off, and in the evening, boarded a plane to Paris. She called Valentina when she arrived at the hotel.

“How was your day off in Milan?” Valentina asked, “did you visit the Duomo?”

“Oh my god, Val, I did! It was wonderful, like you said,” she told her somewhat wishfully, “I wish you’d been there; I had this amazing ice-cream. You would’ve loved it.”

“Next time, Juls.”

It was hard for Juliana to tell how Valentina was doing, with the six-hour difference, but she looked a bit lethargic on the tiny screen of her old-fashioned iPhone.

She really needed to get with the times and buy a model with a bigger screen.

“Val, are you falling sleep? What time is it for you?”

Valentina looked at her watch, moving a bit as if she was under water, “hmmm, it’s 7PM, that means, it’s what? 1AM for you? Juliana!” she admonished, “you need your sleep.”

Juliana nodded, “in a minute,” and then, turned the phone to show Valentina her room, “look how nice this place is, Val,” she said with the glee of someone much younger, of the child from San Antonio who could have only _dreamed_ of ever finding herself living this life, “they put me in a super nice room, look how fine this is,” she moved her hand over the comforter as she kept walking, taking the phone with her to the window. She let out a scream, “that’s the Eiffel Tower, right, Val?”

Valentina laughed softly, overjoyed for her, “it is.”

Paris was also frantic, shows on Monday and Tuesday, and interviews on Wednesday. By the time she boarded the plane on Thursday, she was more than ready to go back home.

She landed at JFK around noon, and when she turned on her phone, she was surprised to find three text messages from Luciana, inquiring about Valentina’s whereabouts.

Years later, Juliana could still recall the feeling of seeing her whole life disappear under her feet, when she arrived home to find Valentina unresponsive, lying in bed.

“Val, Valentina!” she shouted, “Valentina, wake up, _cariño_,” she shook her body, “Val, please, love, wake up, please,” she continued calling her name as she dialed 911.

xxx

The doctor reacted with almost shock to the sight of Valentina, making Juliana tremble. It must be _really_ bad if even the doctor was shaken.

“Is she ok? Why are you looking at her like that? Is it bad?” Juliana had almost cried, half-way to full hysterics.

The doctor was acting like she had seen a ghost.

She shook her head, her training finally kicking in. “Dr. Matthews, this is your case,” she talked to one of her standing staff, eyes fixed on Valentina, a hand moving to take her pulse. Juliana thought she saw it tremble, “I’ll-, I’ll oversee, of course,” then, she shook her head again, and turned towards Juliana, hand still circling Valentina’s wrist, thumb caressing her skin.

She was a tall, imposing woman, older than them, maybe in her late thirties, early forties, with a strong East Side Riverside Chicago accent. She was wearing her black hair pulled back in cornrows, intelligent dark eyes moving over Juliana, assessing her.

“I’m Dr. Lima. ER first attending physician at St. Jude Medical. This is Dr. Matthews, one of our fellows. What can you tell me about-, about the patient?”

“I arrived this morning, from a trip abroad, and she was passed out in bed, I just-, at first I-, I couldn’t tell if she was breathing,” she choked out the words, putting a hand to her chest, trying to calm down, “and then, I couldn’t wake her up,” she struggled to keep her voice level, “she just wouldn’t wake up.”

She reached into her pocket and handed the doctor a pill bottle, “these pills were on the bedside table.”

“How many did she take? What are they for?”

“I don’t know,” Juliana shook her head, frustrated, “she mentioned that the doctor at the clinic had given her something to lower her blood pressure, but I don’t know,” she grabbed at her hair in frustration, “I should know the answers to these questions, but I don’t. I don’t.”

Dr. Lima took a step closer, finally letting go of Valentina’s wrist, speaking in a gentler tone, “do you have reason to believe she may have taken more than the prescribed dosage?”

“¿_Qué_?” Juliana asked almost dazed, “no, no, she’d never, no.”

She nodded curtly, then turned to Dr. Matthews, “pump her stomach.”

Juliana lost her footing, falling flat on her back, legs simply giving up on her.

Dr. Lima reached for her immediately, “_mija_,” she mumbled as she gently pulled her up and helped her to sit in a plastic chair, “look, it’s just a precaution, ok? We need to cover all bases just in case,” then, she turned to Dr. Matthews again, handing over the bottle, “have these analysed, I don’t recognize them.”

“What’s your name?” she finally asked.

“Juliana,” she whispered, “and she’s Valentina. Valentina Carvajal”

“Valentina,” the doctor smiled, pronouncing it correctly. “It’s a beautiful name.”

Juliana smiled, tears starting to fall down her face in earnest, “_por favor_," she coughed, trying to speak, voice coming out weakly, "she’s the love of my life.”

Dr. Lima pressed a hand to her shoulder, “she’s in good hands, I promise. Let me take care of her and I’ll talk to you once we know more, ok?”

Juliana nodded, trusting the older woman immediately, “_gracias, gracias, neta_.”

Of what followed, Juliana was not entirely sure. It could have been minutes, hours, days. She sat on that plastic chair, out of time, out of place. She did not even have the presence of mind to call her mother, or Valentina’s family.

At some point they called her name over the speakers, to bay five.

She was not sure how she made it from the chair to the bay, but the only thing that mattered is that when she arrived, Valentina was there, breathing normally, blinking sleepily at her. “Juls? What-, when did you arrive?”

Juliana trembled on her feet, and just managed to walk to her, sitting on the bed next to her and grabbing the hand that did not have a vial in it, “Val, you’re awake,” she breathed in relief.

Before Valentina could answer, Dr. Matthews joined them, “Ms. Carvajal?”

Juliana pulled back somewhat, still seated on the bed, reluctant to let go of Valentina. She was not sure she may ever be able to let go of her, the way she was feeling, “where’s Dr. Lima?”

“This is _my_ case,” he said, offended, “she’s the ER attendant, and she’s busy.”

Juliana nodded, disappointed, she would have preferred her.

“We’ve pumped the contents of your stomach,” he said, ignoring Juliana, piqued by her lack of regard for him, “the lab will go over everything carefully. Dr. Lima suspects you may have a had a bad reaction to the pills, perhaps an allergic reaction of some kind, as everything indicates that you took exactly what was prescribed. She has stopped all medication for the time being,” both Juliana and Valentina nodded, “we’ll keep you here for observation overnight, but everything looks good, your blood pressure was dangerously low when you arrived, now it’s 9-5, which is on the low end, but within normal parameters,” he pointed at the drip Valentina was attached to, “that’ll help with that.”

“But what happened? What caused the drop in blood pressure?” Juliana asked.

“It may have to do with the prescription, but we don’t know yet. Do you know the name of the doctor that gave it to you?”

Valentina tried to remember, “I think his name is Dr. Shields? He’s the doctor at the clinic that we’re referred to by the office.”

“Who do you work for, Ms. Carvajal? Do you have an address for this clinic?”

“It’s on 43rd, I work for the New York Times.”

“Ok, that’s good, we’ll take it from there, then. You may have some mild pain and discomfort, but with the saline drip on, your system should be mostly clean of the drug by tomorrow morning. You should feel better then.”

Once he left, Valentina felt asleep almost immediately, her exhausted body catching up with her. When she woke up, around 9AM the following morning, she was feeling much better.

“Juls,” she shook Juliana’s arm to wake her up from where she was drooling on her shoulder, “Juls,” she whispered in wonder, when Juliana blinked her eyes open, “I think those pills Dr. Shields gave me were really making me a bit crazy, it’s like I feel normal again.”

Juliana was still too wired to function properly. She had been awake well into the night, watching Valentina to convince herself that she was breathing. The image of Valentina, passed out in bed, imprinted into the back of her brain.

“I love you, Val,” she managed to say. It was not what she wanted to say, but it was true, the one thing she had been able to think clearly in those excruciating minutes when she had thought-, she shook her head, unwilling to revisit any of it. “I love you so much,” she rose Valentina's hand to her mouth and kissed her fingers, “_te amo, mi vida_.”

“I know, Juls, _yo también te amo_,” she smiled, and seeing the fright still in her eyes, she tried to joke, “but you can let go of my hand now, _mi amor_. I’m losing circulation.”

“No,” Juliana smiled, tears in her eyes, “I’m not letting go of you, ever.”

Valentina smiled softly, “fine by me.”

xxx

Across town, Dr. Lima followed Dr. Shields to the subway, watching him. She felt ready to do something crazy. Since she had seen Valentina in her ER room, she had felt sure. The past, life, death, _all_ of it: it had finally caught up with her. Maybe_ this_ was what she had been destined to do. The reason for all the suffering. Dr. Shields had intentionally given Valentina a prescription that almost killed her. She also knew he would not stop at this, now that his first attempt had failed. But she would rid the world of this cancer. Set him on fire in his house, or maybe push him into the traffic, or even better, into the platform as the train approached.

Just as she was going to follow him down the stairs of the station, she felt arms going around her waist, pulling her away.

“Dolores,” she breathed as she turned, recognition flashing across her features immediately, “how? what are you-, let me go, please,” she thrashed in her arms, helpless, “please! He’s going away.”

Dolores only looked at her, holding her in place with her whole body.

Dr Lima was strong, but Dolores was stronger.

She had not changed that much since they last saw each other, when Dolores had ensured all the details of her new identity.

Dolores reached for her phone, freeing one arm and quickly pressing a succession of 15 numbers she had memorized the first day on the job. Her phone beeped once, a “Hazard Contained” message flashed across the screen, and then, it went immediately black, dead. She dropped it into the bin behind them, grabbing again at the other woman with both arms.

“We’ve got to do something,” Dr. Lima tried to shout, “stop! Let me do something!” but the hold Dolores had on her had emptied her lungs of all air and her voice did not carry into the half empty street. Only a few onlookers noticed, making sure to step around the women, thinking them high, or drunk. Perhaps both.

Dolores changed her grip, feeling her sag against her.

“Dr. Lima,” she said into her ear, “Dr. Lima, please calm down.”

It was to no avail. 

Dolores took a breath and used the name she had not used in over a decade, a name almost forgotten, from a previous life, “Mrs. Carvajal, please stop.”

xxx


	4. Chapter 4

“Dr. Lima, calm down,” Dolores whispered as she let go of the tight grip around her waist.

“That’s not _my_ name,” she hissed.

She pushed Dolores, starting to walk away from her, but noticing that she was not following, she walked back and grabbed her arm.

“Oh, no,” she said, “you’re coming with me.”

“Mrs. Carvajal, you know I cannot-,”

“You _owe_ me.”

Dolores sighed, but hesitated. Finally, she inclined her head, “after you.”

Mrs. Carvajal had transmigrated in 2004.

She had died in a hospital bed in Mexico City, aged forty-three, and woken up in the body of nineteen-year-old Sanaa Jiménez, daughter of a Mexican construction worker and a Caribbean hairdresser, in a dangerous suburb of Chicago. Sanaa had died in an unlucky drive through shooting, waiting in the car, unaware, while her good-for-nothing cousin attempted to rob a 7-Eleven.

She had spent two years in a correctional facility, until she turned twenty-one.

When _Mexico Lindo_ was first established, Dolores had protected her, ensuring she stayed anonymous, giving her a new life in Nevada, under the name of María González de Lima.

_María_.

It was the one thing she had been allowed to retain from her other life.

She had never thanked Dolores for allowing her to keep her name. But the idea of not seeing her three children ever again, of being herself a _child_ had almost driven her crazy. She would not had made it if she had been left on her own, but Dolores had been waiting at the door of the facility when she exited it.

She had only said, “Mrs. Carvajal, this way please.”

It had saved her.

She regarded her in silence, “it’s been a while,” she said, and allowed some of the old distress to slip into her voice, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

They had not seen each other in eight years. Dolores had been a constant presence in her life at first, much more than a friend and not quite one. The last time they met was the day she had gained her internship at Hopkins.

Now, at thirty-eight, she was a full-grown woman, _again_.

“How long have you been in New York?” Dolores asked.

“Since December, December 3rd,” she said, “so what, three months?”

Dolores eyebrows went up, “of course,” she nodded, “December 3rd. Death placed you here, on their way.”

“I got an unexpected promotion,” María explained, “the ER attendant at St. Jude died in a traffic accident,” she regarded her, “tell me, is it linked? Is that why I’m here? And if so, why did you stop me? Dr. Shields, that man, he-, I’ve done my research, all these years, you know? He’s_ not_ a doctor, he’s trying to interfere; hurt my baby girl. That prescription could’ve killed Vale!” she took a calming breath, “I thought your job was to protect them?”

Dolores shook her head, “not_ them_. We protect the timeline. Ensure it unrolls.”

“Well, then why didn’t you stop-,”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

They locked eyes for a long moment. Understanding passing between them.

“Oh,” she almost shagged in relief. “Thank you. I’ve always trusted you, _sabes_?”

Dolores nodded, “you can reach out now, if you want.”

“What?”

“Talk to them. Valentina, León, the whole family, they know about the transmigrations.”

“How? But, _what_? You said-, you said I had to stay away unless-,”

“I know. But on December 3rd, your transmigration event window closed,” she said, “whatever events you set in motion when you died have now run their course,” she grabbed her elbow, as María swayed slightly on her feet. “I was looking for you to tell you,” she allowed herself a small smile, “I should’ve known you’d be here already.”

xxx

They sent Valentina home from the hospital in the late afternoon.

Juliana spent all morning on her laptop and phone, dealing with journalists and arranging her schedule for the following week. She was going to meet with a few potential investors, see whether on the tail of her successful shows, she could find some business partners, get her label off the ground.

“I’ll come with you and punch his stupid face,” Valentina fumed when she learnt about Juliana’s exchange with Sergio. “Did he really say that?”

Juliana shrugged her shoulders. They were sitting together, bodies pressed closed, side by side in the hospital bed, Juliana’s head resting on Valentina’s shoulder, and Valentina’s arm firmly settled around her, a hand playing with the tips of her soft dark hair.

Juliana’s hair was almost as long as Valentina’s these days, and Valentina had never been able to keep her hands away from the silky strands when they were so close together. She liked to run her fingers over it in a soothing manner. Doing it calmed _her_, and she felt the heaviness that had settled into her stomach and chest in the last few weeks, lifting slowly, comforted by Juliana’s presence.

It did not distract her from the conversation, though. She furrowed her brow, thinking of Sergio.

“I’ll kill him, remove his tiny little-,”

“Good afternoon,” interrupted the voice of Dr. Lima as she entered the room. She looked at them, how close they were sitting, and smiled tenderly, “Valentina, Juliana.”

“Dr. Lima,” Juliana smiled, happy to see her, straightening up a bit and turning in bed, “Val, this is the doctor I’ve been telling you about, she saved you,” she blushed lightly thinking of how Dr. Lima had reached for her when she landed on her behind, “and picked me up from the floor when I-, when-,” she lowered her voice, “_me caí de culo_, Val.”

That startled a bark of laughter out of Valentina.

Juliana swatted her arm, “hush, you.”

“Plenty of padding there,” Valentina whispered in her ear, eyes twinkling as she tried to squeeze her hand around Juliana, aiming for said backside.

“Stop it,” Juliana laughed, squirming.

“Well, yes,” Dr. Lima interrupted. She was looking at them with a wide smile on her face, obviously charmed by their flirting. “I wanted to see you both before we discharge Vale, I mean, Valentina.”

“You can call me Vale. Everyone in my family, except Juls, calls me that,” she took a breath, “it’s what my mother used to call me.”

Dr. Lima stared for a long moment, a shiver going up her spine.

Finally, she turned around to grab the chart at the foot of the bed, blinking her eyes rapidly.

She read the chart carefully, taking a couple of notes at the bottom. Then, she moved around the bed, pushing a machine closer. “I’m going to check your blood pressure,” she said, voice coming out a bit rough. She grabbed Valentina’s arm, carefully placing the cuff around it. She cleared her throat before speaking again, “it’ll only be a minute.”

She nodded at the reading, once the machine beeped, “everything looks fine.” She squeezed Valentina’s hand lightly as she removed the cuff.

“Let me remove this, too,” she said and delicately removed the vial from her arm. “Don’t tell this to anyone, but we’re an University hospital, and the nurse on this floor isn’t very experienced yet,” she winked at them, both her eyes closing comically, “you don’t want her to practice on your arm.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lima,” Valentina beamed at her, rubbing her arm. She really liked the doctor, too.

“Just call me María,” she said as she took a step back, making space for Valentina, as she moved to get up with a bit of help from Juliana, “the lab’s results came back early this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Hmm,” she nodded, “I’d them run everything again, to make sure. The pills didn’t match the prescription on the bottle. In fact, they were quite dangerous. The concentration of benazepril was five times the recommended dosage.”

Juliana’s hand grabbed Valentina’s, “¿_qué_? But, how?”

“We don’t know yet, but I reported the case to the police, following protocol,” she nodded towards the door, “in fact, there’s a couple of officers outside, who’d like to talk with you. They’re also looking for Dr. Shields.”

Juliana was the first to talk, “are you saying he did this on purpose? He gave her the wrong prescription?”

“The dosage could’ve been fatal. It could’ve stopped your heart.”

“But, why? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, I think it’s best if you talk to the police officers,” she pulled a pen from one of her pockets and signed some paperwork on the chart before putting it back. She ripped off the last page and handed it to Valentina, “here, this is all you need to process the discharge with your insurance.”

“Yes, yes, _gracias_,” Valentina said and, on impulse, hugged her, “thank you for saving us.”

Dr. Lima squeezed her back for a moment, “of course.”

Then, she felt Juliana’s arms go around them both, “yes, thank you.”

She had to cough to suppress the sob that rose up her chest.

María had wanted to believe, all those years, that she had moved on, that she could live without this. Without her family, her little Vale.

But, standing there, with the two girls surrounding her, she _knew._

She had been lying to herself all those years.

And now that destiny had rolled over, allowing her to come full circle, she knew she would not be able to stay away.

These were her children.

Her _babies_.

“Ok, girls, I’ve got to go,” she said as she disentangled herself and hastily left the room, leaving them still hugging each other.

xxx

They waited for their uber ride by the entrance of the hospital.

“Juls.”

Juliana did not answer or change her stance, arm set firmly around Valentina's waist. Chin stubbornly up in the air, the corners of her mouth slightly down turned.

“Juuuls,” Valentina whined, moving her face and kissing her ear softly. “I’m fine.”

Juliana still refused to acknowledge her, and so she kissed her again, and again, her own hand moving to cover Juliana’s where it rested on her waist, fingers interlacing, caressing; her other arm going around her shoulders, pulling her into her body.

“Juliana, _mi amor_,” she mumbled into her neck, inhaling her scent, “I promise, it’s fine.”

“Good.”

Valentina kissed her again, “are you upset?”

Juliana rolled her eyes, but could not hide a small smile, “¿_qué crees_?”

Valentina also smiled and squeezed Juliana’s shoulders. “You heard the officers; it was probably nothing.”

Juliana frowned, turning a bit in her arms, and disentangling herself from Valentina from one side, so that she could make eye contact, “that’s definitely _not_ what I heard,” she took a breath, regarding Valentina carefully, “what _I_ heard is that you’ve been working on an article that has placed you at risk, and that you’ve been receiving death threats at the New York Times.”

Valentina huffed, “everyone gets those, Juls, it’s like,” she waved her hand in the air, gesturing, “like you’ve not _made it_, until you get a couple.”

Juliana stomped her foot on the floor, “don’t you dare joke about this, Valentina.”

“I swear I’m not,” she whispered, mollified. “I’m taking every recommendation they gave us very seriously, Juls, _te lo juro_.”

Juliana looked up, the light from the fading sun making Valentina’s eyes look immensely blue, hair blonder than usual. She felt her heart skip a beat at her beauty, “_me lo juras, ¿neta?_”

Valentina brought their bodies closer, kissing her softly on the lips, “_neta_.”

xxx

Juliana made Valentina stay home for the rest of the week, “whatever it is, it’ll keep,” she said, and when Valentina started to complain, she silenced her by kissing her.

When Juliana finally pulled back, Valentina could not even remember what they had been talking about, or why she had wanted to go to the office anyway.

That night, Juliana made love to her slowly, softly, pulling back whenever Valentina tried to speed things up, until she had Valentina almost keening in her arms.

The following morning, on Saturday, Eva arrived with her daughter, María Luz, who was already five years old.

Eva grabbed her sister tightly to her for a long moment, "you idiot, I cannot leave you alone for a minute," she grumbled in Valentina's ear.

Valentina kissed Eva’s cheek and then shouted “Malu!” as she saw the little girl, grabbing her, and twirling her around the apartment.

That left Juliana and Eva at the door.

They looked at each other in silence.

Then, Eva grabbed Juliana’s hand, “_ven_,” and hugged her warmly.

They had been instant enemies, when they met.

Both too much on the defensive, too hardened by the world to trust anyone around Valentina.

Over the years, life had reconciled them.

Their shared love for Valentina created a bond if not of sisterhood, then of deep and abiding appreciation for each other, for their roles in Valentina’s life.

Juliana knew how much the sisters loved each other, and Eva knew that nobody had ever loved her sister like Juliana did. Also, that Valentina had never loved anyone like she loved Juliana. She was almost jealous of their love.

When Juliana tried to step back, Eva simply held her closer. This was not something many people knew, because Eva’s claws were sharp and always on display, keeping people at bay, but she gave _amazing_ hugs.

Juliana thought it was a Carvajal family trait.

Like it was not unfair enough that the Carvajal sisters were impossibly smart, beautiful and rich. They also had to have this depth of feeling to themselves.

She resisted for a moment, and then, sank into the embrace as her body betrayed her. Allowing Eva’s strong arms to hold her securely against her as the fear, stress and tiredness of the last few days all pushed to the surface, making her shake in her feet. 

“Why is the _tita_ crying?” asked Malu, as she crossed her little arms over her chest, lower lip sticking out. She stared Valentina down with a frown, asking in her stern adult voice, which sounded comically like Eva’s, “what did _you_ do?”

“I-, well, I, in fact, I-,” Valentina felt tears in her eyes, as she shook her head, “no, we-, we’re just happy to have you both here,” she told the girl, “let’s join them.”

“Yeah,” shouted Malu, and charged the two women, almost making them fall to the floor. They all laughed then, stepping back from each other a bit.

Valentina took the chance to grab Juliana, pulling her into her body.

Juliana hid her face into Valentina’s shoulder, arms going around her waist, as Valentina turned them a bit away from Eva and Malu, giving them some privacy, “sssh, _mi amor, no llores, por favor_.”

Eva moved her fingers under her own eyes, careful of her make-up, “I’m going to fix my make-up,” she said, voice rough, “Malu, come help me.”

Malu dragged her feet behind her, “maaaaaaaa, make-up is boring,” she whined, “and you look prettier without it,” she grabbed Eva’s shirt, “can we go get ice-cream when the _tita_ forgives_ tía_ Vale?”

Eva smiled, “_ándale_, Malu.”

Eva and Malu went out for a walk, while Juliana and Valentina stayed home. Juliana was feeling clingy, which in turn, made Valentina even more clingy.

She knew she had scared Juliana, and she hated that.

“I’m sorry you were so worried, Juls,” she whispered as they sat on the sofa, huddled together under a blanket, “it’s like I’ve been underwater these last few weeks,” she shook her head, “I don’t know, I had a fog covering my thoughts, everything was hazy and strange. It was freaky, now that I think about it.”

“Val,” Juliana breathed, “It was also my fault, I should’ve said something sooner, we could’ve known something was going on with that prescription earlier, but with my shows and-,” she lowered her eyes, ashamed of herself, “I guess I’m still not that great at articulating the things that bother me, but I’m glad we’ve talked.”

“Me, too, _mi vida_,” she pulled Juliana impossibly closer to her on the sofa, “tell me about Paris and Milan? With everything that’s been going on, we haven’t really talked.”

Juliana told her about the shows, going over the looks that had caused the biggest impressions and those that had not been so appreciated. She already had quite a few ideas for her next collection, having seen some interesting shows by European designers.

When Eva and Malu came back from their walk, they found them, on the sofa, sleeping in each other’s arms.

xxx

The following night, while they were having dinner, they had a surprise visit.

“Lina,” she stammered when the door opened, thrown, “what are you-, how-, in New York?”

Eva crossed her arms, eyebrows rising as she looked at the stranger from head to toe, “how do you know my name?”

Malu came also barging in, right after her, pushing Eva as she hid behind her mother’s leg and smiled at the stranger, “I’m Malu,” she shouted, “who are you? I like your hair.”

“María Luz, _hija_, don't talk to strangers,” Eva warned.

Dr. Lima grabbed at the door threshold, the room suddenly spinning. This little girl was-, _would have been_ her grandchild in her previous life.

_What did that make her in this one?_

Valentina joined them at the door, “who’s calling?” she asked, “oh, Dr. Lima!” she smiled, please come in,” she said, waving her in, “Juls! Look who’s here!”

“Please call me-, I’m, just María,” she paused, “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I didn’t know Evange-,” she rubbed her forehand, overwhelmed, “that your-, your family would be here,” she took a breath, swaying a bit on her feet, “I think I need a glass of water.”

“Of course, please come in, come in.”

They sat on the sofa and pulled some chairs around it. Eva stood by the side, suspicious of this woman who seemed so familiar.

There was _something_ about her she recognized, something about how the air moved around her.

“I’ve something to tell you, but honestly, I don’t even know where to begin,” María took a fortifying breath, “this will sound very strange, but please hear me out,” she made eye contact with Valentina. Somehow, talking to her was easier, “I’ve been told that you know about transmigrations? That when a person dies, their soul can go to another body?”

“No, never,” said Eva, not trusting her. “Are you crazy?”

“Like the _abuelito_!” said Malu, almost at the same time.

“Malu!” Eva said, “go to our room to call _tío_ Guille. _Vamos_. Go. Come on.”

Valentina laughed watching her niece drag her feet as she left, “yes, we’ve heard of it, don’t mind Eva, she’s like that most of the time,” she rolled her eyes at her sister, “why?”

“It-, well, it happened to me too,” she paused and turned, then, looking at Eva.

Eva had been in her hospital room when she died. She had not wanted any of her children there, but her eldest had always been too stubborn, too proud, even as a young teenager, and she had managed to escape Chivis’ vigilance, sneaking into the hospital, “I-, I died in Mexico City, in 2004, at the _Instituto Nacional de Cancerologia_,” she breathed, “in room 422,” she looked as Eva’s face lost all colour, and she had to take a seat, “I’m sorry you were there,” she said, her trembling hand reaching halfway towards Eva, before pulling it back, “I told your father, but he was too proud, always had this idea in his head that you were his heir, the _heredera_.”

“No,” Eva whispered, running her fingers through her hair, “no, no, only my mother would know that, no.”

María continued, “I died back home, and woke up here, in the US,” she pointed at her body, “in a much younger, very different body.”

She watched both Valentina and Eva. Valentina kept looking between Eva and Dr. Lima.

She did not know all the details, but she could tell from Eva’s reaction that something monumental was happening.

She did know that her mother, all those years ago, had died in that public hospital. It was something Leon had tortured himself over, through the years, but she had been stubborn, believing in the public health system to her dying breath. Leon had cried bitter tears, forever wondering what would have happened if they had gone to the US, paid for the best treatment money could buy.

“I-, I had family in Mexico,” María continued, breaking the silence, “just before I died, in one of my last few good weeks, we went on a little holiday. I took a picture of my youngest daughter, by the swimming pool, she was wearing an orange skirt, top and shoes,” she shook her head, “she’d just been crying because she wanted to go in the pool, but we _had_ to go and I wouldn’t let her, you know?” she shook her head, “I cannot remember where we were going, why it mattered, but her crying… it’s amazing the things that haunt you, when you lose the chance to-, to-,” she stopped to take a breath, “let me show you.”

“Dolores, she-, she managed to get me a copy of it through Chivis, I have it here,” she reached in her handbag, and pulled out the picture, giving it to Valentina.

Valentina looked at it and felt her heart stop, her fingers going numb.

“This,” Juliana said, taking it from her hand, “it’s you. This is the picture you showed me, isn’t it?”

Eva grabbed it, her hand trembling as she held the picture, “I cannot believe this is happening to _me_,” she said dramatically, “_again_.”

xxx


	5. Chapter 5

It was an emotional afternoon, with Eva and Valentina quizzing her until they were convinced that she was, indeed, their mother.

Unexpectedly, Eva had been convinced first.

Of course, she had also known their mother longer.

“Lina,” Mrs. Carvajal had asked, “_mi bebé, mi cielo_, when did you become so hard?”

And Eva had swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed.

The lump in her throat blocking whatever words she was trying to form, because only her mother had ever called her Lina, or _cielo_. “Dad made me go to business school,” she managed to whisper in the end, “but I’m editing a new section in one of the magazines, about art, and it’s really successful.”

She had sounded much, much younger than she was.

Her mother had beamed at her then, nodding, “you always had such talent for art,” and Eva had not been able to say anything else for a long time.

María told them about the years in the US, how she gained a medical degree, and importantly, about the TIA, the secret organization that had saved her and was monitoring the transmigrations from the shadows. She only knew that they were out there, protecting the timeline, that they helped her on the condition that she did not interfere. She told them about how Dolores had been waiting for her at the arrivals gate of the Benito Juárez Airport and discretely put a gun to her stomach that first time she had tried to go back to Mexico, all those years ago. Also, the second, the third, the fourth time. María had never given up, but she had progressively showed less often at the arrivals terminal.

Why she had been allowed to live, she did not know.

“Maybe I still had a role to play, then,” she said.

As far as she knew, there were two previous transmigrations, linked to their timeline: one in 1992, which had somehow influenced her marrying León. And another one in 1999, which was linked to Juliana’s part of the story, an event she knew nothing about.

“I was born in 2000,” Juliana whispered.

While they all listened and held their suspicions quiet, Juliana saw with clarity.

She was not sure what to think at first, not because of María, but because it was just overwhelming: the meddlesome way in which destiny, Death, seemed set on intervening in their lives. Placing her and Valentina together, here, in New York, seemed to matter so much, but why? for what? 

And here was this woman, Mrs. Carvajal herself, if they were to believe her, who had saved Valentina’s life, and by extension, Juliana’s. She was a doctor at a US hospital, someone rich and successful on her own, who did not need their money, or their problems. And the way she was looking at Eva and Valentina?

Juliana had known true love in the last few years of her life, thanks to Valentina.

But she knew trickery and subterfuge even better. They were her old companions. She knew about people like Milagros, who would lie and go behind anyone’s back, willing to betray others for so very little. Worse, she knew about people like Chino, who wielded love like a weapon. To control. To take. To hurt.

The light in María’s eyes when she looked at her daughters? That came from the soul, Juliana knew.

She could spot fake love from a parent better than anyone in this room, and she trusted the doctor.

María was genuine.

“What about you?” Juliana asked María when the Carvajal sisters seemed to run out of steam and things to ask, “what did your transmigration mean?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, “I’ve only learned bits and pieces throughout the years: these organizations are almost surreal, movie-like. Some days I cannot believe I had another life,” she confessed, “as the years went pass, it felt more and more like a dream.”

She took a long breath, a hand pressing to her upper chest, “I gave myself permission to forget a bit about you, girls. I’m so sorry,” she breathed, “please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Valentina interceded quickly.

They understood. They had all allowed themselves to move on, to continue with life.

She had been Dr. María Lima for so long by then, she was not sure she could be anyone else anymore. Not even María Lourdes Carvajal.

They told her about León, their own transmigration event of 2018, how he was young again, too. How, in an amazing twist of fate, he was now also Juliana’s father.

“I don’t know that my love for him survived in the way my love for you girls did,” María admitted. “I’m in this body now, and, I don’t know, but I think part of her, of that beautiful girl, Sanaa, stayed. Part of my life is _her _life. At the DNA level, whatever she was pre-programmed to be, I get to be, I guess.”

They all nodded; not fully understanding, but also knowing that the new León was not the old León. He had a bit more of a temper, a shadow to his eyes that Juliana recognized and did not like. He did not visit them often, and it did not pain Juliana at all.

As the afternoon turned into night and the sun set, hidden by the skyscrapers on the other side of 8th Avenue, they finally fell silent, emotionally exhausted.

“She’s your grandma,” they told Malu much later.

“Is she?” she asked, eyes round. Then, she went to touch her grandmother’s hair, “when is my hair turning like the _abuelita_’s?” she asked her mother, eager.

xxx

The following week went by slowly. It was a shock to adapt to the return of Valentina’s mother to their lives.

For some reason, Lupita had immediately accepted and welcomed María as her in-law, her _consuegra_.

“A doctor,” she had said, impressed. “You did well, _hija_, Juli.”

Juliana had rolled her eyes at her mother’s image on the screen of her phone, “Lupe,” a breath, “seriously, can you be any more ridiculous? Are you telling me that you’re impressed _now_? I mean, have you been paying attention at all?”

“Well, _sí, sí_,” she had waved her hand in dismissal, “but, listen, _una doctora_, Juli.”

Juliana had quite a few meetings with financial advisers and potential investors planned. She had booked Merrill Lynch last, not wanting to meet with Sergio. She was hoping she could tell him to shove their interest in her fashion label where the sun did not shine.

_Idiot_.

“I hate that I slept with him,” she told Valentina while they were having dinner, and almost instantly cringed, concerned about her _faux pas._

Valentina’s eyes opened wide, but she smiled, “hello? I’m pretty sure I hate it _more_.”

Juliana laughed, relieved that this was something that they could joke about, now. It was a wound that she had inflicted on them both, but she knew that it had pained Valentina more.

“Even though it was years ago,” Juliana said, moving to interlace her fingers with Valentina’s, “I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you, that I hurt you.”

“Juls, it’s in the past,” Valentina raised Juliana’s hand to her mouth, kissing her knuckles lightly, while she started to make a scissors gesture with her free hand, “we’re only thinking about him because we need to plan how I’m going to get away with cutting his little-,”

“Val,” Juliana laughed, interrupting, “eat your dinner.”

They washed the dishes together, later, bumping into each other in their tiny kitchen. Valentina taking every opportunity to move around her and brush her hands over Juliana’s back, shoulders, waist, upper arms.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Juliana accused when Valentina pressed into her back as she reached to, presumably, grab something behind her.

“Is it working?”

There was no point in denying it. “If it’s not, I can do better,” Valentina smirked, as her hands went around Juliana’s waist, pulling her more solidly into her body, warm mouth finding her neck and making Juliana shiver.

It was a return to their normal selves, and Juliana felt so relieved that she almost skipped around the house. After attending the fashion weeks, she was nowhere near as busy, and, as was often the case for her, she could work on her designs from home. In fact, she was quite productive, as she found Valentina’s presence inspiring rather than distracting.

And when Juliana was home, there was nowhere else Valentina would rather be.

They often worked in silence, sitting in their living room, each on one side of the sofa, feet touching in the middle. Until almost inevitably, Valentina would, at some point, start to pinch Juliana’s toes, or attempt to convince her to give her a massage, or just simply, lie on Juliana’s lap and completely disrupt her work.

“It’s so easy when you’re here, Juls,” Valentina acknowledged, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “And I’m so bad when you leave me on my own. I’m sorry, and I promise-, I’ll-, well, I’ll try to do better, tell you when I miss you.”

Juliana swallowed and nodded. She was only marginally better. She reached to tuck Valentina’s hair behind her ear, caressing her neck, and whispered, “_te amo_.”

They talked at length, Juliana finally understanding how hard it was for Valentina not to have her around, how much she struggled to fill the spaces that Juliana inhabited when she was not there.

Throughout the week, Valentina kept working on her article. They were almost ready to go to print. It was making her nervous, the large exposé involved, but she could not talk about it, even with Juliana.

“It’s going to be big, Juls.”

“Val, I’m worried about it, about you, have there been any other death threats? Maybe we should go back to Mexico for a bit?”

“No,” and seeing Juliana’s fear, she insisted, “no, no, I swear, Juliana. This organization my mother talks about? They took care of it.”

She felt sure of it.

She had never paid much attention to her surroundings, used as she was to live under constant surveillance, but she was extremely good at spotting them: _security_. Just like she had known, back then, how to ditch her bodyguards, being always one step ahead of them, Valentina knew now that there were people shadowing her. They were good, she would give them that. Very discreet. But one did not live two whole decades of their life with permanent shadows behind their back without learning to detect them.

“You think so?”

“I’ve seen them,” Valentina reassured, “I’ve better security than the president.”

Juliana shook her head, “I still don’t like it, Val.”

“Shh,” she hugged Juliana to her, “it’s fine, _mi amor_. Please don’t worry. You focus on your investors and your collection, you hear me?”

And truthfully, that was something Valentina was struggling with, the notion that Juliana was working so hard to get _funding_. There were many things she could not give Juliana, things she needed to succeed in the fashion industry: talent, luck, inspiration, but money? She could fund a dozen shops for Juliana, and it would not even make a dent into her savings.

It was a topic that had originated severe disagreements in the past, and Valentina knew it was a matter of pride for Juliana, so it had been years since she had dared to bring it up. But now Juliana was looking for partners to launch her label, and an idea was brewing inside Valentina. She hoped that, when the time came, Juliana would listen to her.

“I’ve some events lined up for next week, actually, a few fund-risings organized by the people who run the fashion week,” Juliana told her as they walked back home from having dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant downtown. “Maybe you can come with me? One is a dinner, and another is a charity ball,” she squeezed Valentina’s hand, “I don’t want to go on my own. You know I’m not good at these things.”

Valentina moved her arm around Juliana’s shoulders as they walked towards the lobby to their house, “you’ll do just great, Juls, don’t put yourself down,” she pulled Juliana even closer as they entered the lift, “but I may consider going with you,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “do I get to wear one of your designs for this?”

Juliana considered how distracting it would be to have Valentina sitting next to her all evening wearing one of her designs, “you can wear a turtleneck sweater and a long skirt,” she said finally, making Valentina laugh.

xxx

The last fund-rising took place at the Met. It was organized by the Costume Institute, and it was an excellent opportunity to meet with prospective investors. Juliana thought it was a bit pretentious, but the fashion industry was sometimes pretentious. Not her label. She wanted to create designs for everyone. Looking good, feeling good about oneself was a gift she could give others, at a reasonable price. She often had people of all colors, shapes, and genders walk with her designs.

The night was a financial success for her. It was strange to make business during dinner and cocktails, but Valentina was incredibly savvy, and with her help, Juliana managed to schedule several appointments in the financial district for the following week. Places like the Met galas were where contacts are made, but Juliana knew that money changed hands in the grey, high-rising offices downtown.

As the night drew to an end, music started to play, and a few couples drifted towards it, using the space next to the Dendur Temple as an impromptu dancing floor.

“I can’t believe we're just-, that I-, that you-,” Juliana moved her hand in a circle, looking around, eyes open wide, as she pointed at the Temple, at Valentina, at herself, before finally shaking her head, “you know, _here_.”

No matter how much time went past, the feeling persisted: that her whole life was simply impossible, that it could not be happening to _her_.

“And the Dendur Temple, Val. It’s like in that movie, when Harry met Sally?”

Valentina laughed, “can you believe Sally ended up with him?” she scrunched up her face in an adorable manner, “please, she was _so_ far above Harry… she should've gone for Carrie Fisher’s character.”

Juliana smiled, nodding, “she should.”

They were momentarily split apart, as one of the managers from Carolina Herrera New York approached Juliana to talk to her about a possible collaboration. Juliana saw Valentina walking towards the area where the drinks and the DJ were located out of the corner of her eye, before becoming engrossed in the conversation.

“May I have this dance?” Valentina asked when she eventually got Juliana’s attention, after she was done talking.

The back of Valentina’s hand moved slowly down Juliana’s arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps on its wake.

“This is too fast for you, Val.”

“I’ve asked the DJ for another song, next,” she smiled.

Juliana turned her hand in Valentina’s, interlinking their fingers, and nodded, “_ándale_.”

Valentina tugged lightly, moving them towards the Temple. Juliana was wearing a black dress that left all of her back bare. Valentina had been struggling all evening to keep her hands to herself, "you look beautiful, Juls."

"Thank you."

The song changed just as they reached the edge of the dancing crowd, the first notes of “_eso es amor_,” coming through the speakers.

Juliana stopped in her tracks, a sudden bout of emotion moving up her chest, tears reaching her eyes before she could blink them away, “Val, how-,”

Valentina turned them over, placing her arms over Juliana’s shoulders and pressing closer than necessary.

“It’s our song.”

Juliana laughed into her shoulder, “it is,” her hands moved, one to grab Valentina’s hand and press it to her heart, the other around her back, fingers lightly caressing her skin where the dress ended, “but if you stand this close, I won’t be able to look into your eyes.”

“We can’t have that.”

Valentina rubbed her nose lightly against Juliana’s, and moved her body even closer, brushing her cheek against hers, “_si la consideras tu vida, tu alegría, tu pasión y compañia_” she sang into Juliana’s ear, feeling the other woman shiver against her.

“Val.”

“Sssh,” Valentina breathed, voice lower than usual, “you remember when we danced in the park?”

“How could I forget.”

“I was obsessed with this song,” Valentina confided, “with_ you_. I couldn’t understand what I was feeling, but it was so, so, good. I’d never felt anything like that before, I didn’t even know what my body was doing,” she lowered her voice even more, whispering into Juliana’s ear, “I was so excited when I went back home,” she laughed huskily, “you made me so wet.”

“Val,” Juliana shuddered.

“Juls.”

Juliana breathed out slowly, feeling shaky. Then, she confessed, “me, too.”

Valentina stopped them, making the couple that was dancing next to them bump into their side, “really?” she smiled mischievously, “what about, you know,” her eyes moved down to Juliana’s chest and lower, warm hand in the middle of Juliana's bare back, thumb caressing lightly, “our dancing, now?”

Juliana was breathing fast, a little blush covering her features, as she shrugged her shoulders, and nodded, “always.”

Valentina’s eyes went round at that, “have you talked to all the big fish here?”

Juliana blinked, surprised by the change in topic, “yeah,” she shook her head. Then, she confirmed, “yes, I’ve talked to all of them.”

“Good,” Valentina said, pulling her by the hand and almost running towards the door with a laughing Juliana in tow, “we’re going home.”

xxx

Valentina talked to her mother a few times, going out for coffee and lunch, dragging Juliana along with her, nervous to be alone with the imposing woman. Through Chivis and her connection with the TIA, she had managed to get quite a collection of baby pictures of Valentina, and she loved regaling them with tales of her early years. Juliana loved those stories and would tease Valentina endlessly about them, managing to get quite a few embarrassing pictures for their own album.

“I cannot believe you wanted to marry your pre-school teacher and you never told me,” Juliana laughed, hitting her forearm lightly. “Should I be worried about this former love?”

“Ms. Betina was very pretty,” Valentina mumbled, a blush covering her features.

“She came home one day and announced they were engaged,” María looked at Juliana, as she laughed, remembering, “Ms. Betina had dark hair like yours, actually, didn’t she, Vale?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled from behind the hand that was covering her face.

Juliana could not stop laughing at little gay Valentina for days afterwards. She even googled this Ms. Betina, but could not find a picture of her.

“Was she really pwweetty?” she teased, pouting and mispronouncing the ‘_r_’ in the way Malu did, as she prepared for bed that night.

“Ooof,” she complained as Valentina launched herself at her and pushed them both into the bed. They bounced off a bit, before settling down, entangled, Juliana on her back, and Valentina on top of her, legs bracketing her on both sides.

She tried to dislodge Valentina, “get off me, _tonta_.”

But Valentina just kissed her until she was moaning under her, “no, no, no. You’ve been teasing me, Juls, now you pay the price.”

They have found their rhythm again, now that Valentina was no longer taking the pills that were poisoning her. Also, without them, she felt she did not need the alcohol, either.

She was clear headed, happy.

“I think your mother saved you,” Juliana told her later that night, as they laid spooning in bed. “That Death placed her in this path, so that she could stop that doctor.”

“Can you believe what she said? That she was going to do something crazy?”

Juliana kept silent. She kissed her shoulder, reaching around her to hold her tighter.

To save Valentina? She _could_.

“She saved _us_,” Juliana said firmly, convinced.

xxx

The weekend before Juliana would have her meetings downtown and Valentina’s article would go to press, they were relaxing at home, watching a movie Valentina had wanted to see for a while, pressed together in the middle of the sofa. It was late and Valentina was already wearing her gray summer pajamas, the heating in the house too high to wear winter ones, while Juliana was wearing the camisole she often wore to bed. It left her legs bare, and as she shifted on the sofa it fell off one shoulder.

Valentina was not sure what the movie was about, having spent most of the last half an hour watching Juliana’s chest move as she breathed.

“Val, you’re staring.”

“I am,” she nodded eagerly, “can I touch you?”

Juliana looked down at her own chest, nothing much there, as far as she could see, “if this neckline was a bit lower, you wouldn’t ever look at my face, would you?”

“Untrue,” Valentina said, moving a hand to Juliana’s neck, turning her face gently so that she could look at her in the eye, “you have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, Juls,” she kissed her cheek, “I already stare at you all day.”

Then, she slid her hand down her neck and chest, raising her eyebrows, “is this ok?” she whispered as her hand dipped inside the open neckline and continued its journey down, finally cupping a full breast.

They both breathed out at the touch, “Val,” Juliana warned, voice rough.

“You’re so soft,” Valentina said, breathing against her neck, as her thumb started to move back and forth, teasing her nipple, fingers lightly caressing the underside of her breast.

“Will you come to have brunch tomorrow with my mother?”

Juliana took a long breath; it was hard thinking when Valentina was caressing her body like that. “Don’t you want to spend more time with her on your own?”

“I do, but you’re the most important person in my life, so you two have to, I don’t know,” she laughed, “merge, get to know each other, gang up on me, whatever you want, Juls.”

Juliana smiled gently, forever amused by Valentina's light humor, reaching to play with her hair, “I like the ganging up part.”

“You do, huh?”

“Hmm,” she whispered as she kissed her neck. “Did you change your perfume?”

“I did, when I went to your show, they were handing out these Idôle testers, and I really liked it, so I bought it," she moved her head to the side, offering her neck for Juliana to move closer, "do you like it?”

Juliana moved forward, hugging her and pushing her back against the cushions of the sofa, “let’s see,” she breathed into her neck, as she climbed on top of Valentina, one leg finding its way between both of hers, their hips, stomachs, and breasts pressing against each other.

“I think you want to have your way with me,” Valentina teased, “it’s not like-, ah,” she felt Juliana’s fingers closing around her breast, thumb teasing her nipple over her top, “I-, well,” Juliana moved her leg, putting pressure against her center. She inhaled, hips lifting involuntarily, pushing, trying to feel more of her.

“¿_Qué?_,” Juliana whispered as she kissed under Valentina’s jaw, moving her mouth slowly up her neck until her teeth grazed her ear, lightly biting. She shifted a bit, pressing against the back of the sofa so that most of her weight was on her side, while still putting pressure on Valentina.

Valentina was starting to see stars. She was never good at resisting Juliana when she took the initiative in their love making. She reached with her own hands between their bodies, trying to paw at her pants and panties, desperate to take them off, but Juliana’s leg was on the way, “Juls, get them off,” she whispered urgently.

Juliana lifted her leg slightly, helping Valentina to lower her pajama pants and underwear as she raised her hips. When Juliana’s bare leg came again in contact with Valentina, she could feel how wet she was, “someone’s quite eager,” she said as she teased her, moving her leg from side to side, watching as Valentina arched into her, hips raising, head thrown back. “I-I, was trying to seduce you,” she laughed, too gone to do anything but open herself to whatever Juliana wanted to do to her.

Juliana hand went to her hip, thumb pressing against her hipbone, “were you, now?” she inquired, voice so low it was almost a growl. Her hand moved lower, caressing Valentina’s stomach, the top of her thighs, letting her fingers trail down, teasing the soft skin on the inside of her legs.

Valentina was warm and sticky as Juliana slid her fingers between her legs.

She kissed Valentina’s mouth as her fingers moved around her wetness, drawing lazy patterns that made Valentina’s hips shift erratically. Finally, she dipped two of her fingers inside to the first knuckle, pulling them in and out slowly.

Valentina kissed her back sloppily, whole body shaking.

She trembled in Juliana’s arms with the next slow trust, as Juliana moved her mouth to kiss her cheek, her ear, her brow, her neck, her fingers rhythmically trusting inside Valentina with each kiss.

“Ah,” Valentina moaned, “Juls, please.”

Juliana smiled down at her as she added another finger and pushed, twisting her fingers. Valentina cried, eyes closing as Juliana started a pulsing motion with the heel of her hand over her clitoris, fingers as deep as they would go. Juliana put her thigh on top of her hand, to add pressure, and began to move her hips, thrusting into her.

Valentina loved it when Juliana touched her like this, whole body pressing into her. She opened her legs as far as they would go in the confined space of the sofa, and threw her head back against the cushions, hands grasping at Juliana’s back, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm for as long as she could.

xxx


	6. Chapter 6

“We’re close to publishing now, Juls,” Valentina told her on Sunday, as she was setting the table for dinner. She had prepared _chilaquiles_, one of the admittedly few things she could cook and that Juliana quite liked, “I think, well-,” she shook her head, allowing her long hair to cover her face partially, “the article, it’s-, well, I’m pretty sure that it’s going to create a bit of a stir.” Her elegant hand rose in the air, index finger and thumb drawing together until there was a millimeter of space between them.

Juliana turned, giving her full attention to Valentina.

She had been working for the Times for three years, and this was the first time she had ever mentioned a reaction.

And it was not that she had stayed away from controversial topics. She had covered the downfall of the regimes in Cuba and Venezuela, the emergence of moderate parties in a few Latin-American countries, publishing stories about their improving economies, and the increasingly reverse migration flows, US citizens applying for work permits in Mexico, Chile, Argentina.

In all that time, she had never been concerned about her pieces, just excited for Juliana to read them and comment.

“Look,” she had shown her the screen of her laptop that very first time, when they were still living in their small flat in Brooklynn, jumping over the cushions and pressing herself against Juliana in the sofa, long limbs tangling for a moment, pressing Juliana awkwardly to the side of the couch and making her laugh, “_mira, mira_,” she had urged Juliana, half-grabbing her as she pointed at the name under the headline.

“_Por Valentina Carvajal_,” Juliana read out loud, and she had looked at Valentina, and smiled and smiled and smiled.

She was so impressed, so proud of her, fully understanding what a big deal it was to be published in The New York Times. Also, knowing how hard Valentina worked for it.

She admired Valentina for who she had chosen to be, the lifepath she had decided to walk.

Valentina had shrieked in joy, hearing Juliana’s deep melodious voice saying her name. She had fisted both hands in front of her face and shook them in excitement, feet stomping the floor like a toddler may do, face scrunched up, smile too big to contain.

Juliana had laughed with her, poking the dimple that Valentina would get up on her left cheek when she smiled too big, and then, covering her ears when Valentina screeched in excitement, giggling and jumping a bit around, barely careful of the computer between them.

“I’m so proud of you,” Juliana had said, and pulled back a bit, to better see her. She smiled, amazed at her beauty, her light. Valentina was always a vision, but like that, when she was happy and excited? An incredible warmth traveled up Juliana’s chest, rising from her heart and compelling her to speak, “you shine so bright, Val, _mi vida_.” She had looked at her like her blue eyes held all the secrets of the Universe, “_te amo_.”

Valentina had laughed with joy, and sloppily kissed her, “_yo también te amo_.”

Juliana had pulled her lightly by the hands, arms settling around her, “_ven_,” and she had kissed her for an indeterminate amount of time, chest hurting with the overwhelming feeling of love and contentment of having Valentina in her arms.

Over the years, Valentina retained her childlike joy every time one of her research pieces was printed, always showing them to Juliana, and e-mailing them to Lupita, Eva, Guille, León, to Alirio and Chivis, even to Bárbara the witch.

“Do you think she’ll read it? Bárbara?”

“What? To her chicken?” Juliana had snarked, making Valentina laugh.

“It looked like a very smart chicken,” Valentina had replied gravelly, trying to sound serious, as she kissed Juliana’s nose and then, laughed. “You’re so silly, Juls, you’re lucky I love you so much.”

Over the last three years, Valentina had run pieces on cartels, mafias, and crooked politicians, but never seemed concerned.

Nor had she, that Juliana knew, received any death threats.

Of course, for all she knew, she may have kept those from Juliana.

Valentina was stubborn.

And sometimes, secretive.

This was something Juliana discovered over time. It came as a surprise, how, for all she presented herself as an open book, it was Juliana who could never hide anything from Valentina, and not the other way around.

“What do you mean, a stir? Is something wrong? Did you get any more threats?” Juliana finally asked, trying not to sound upset, but she was on alert, after the recent events, “is this linked to that dodgy doctor’s prescription?”

Dr. Shields was still AWOL. In fact, it was like he never existed. He could have been a figment of Valentina’s imagination, for all the police told her. Except, she had his prescription, and the pharmacy had filled it out. Her own mother had seen him before he disappeared.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll show you the article when it’s printed,” Valentina grabbed Juliana around the waist, long arm circling her, warm palm pressing against Juliana’s side. Her other arm went around her neck, delicate fingers caressing the little hairs at the back of Juliana’s neck, pulling her into her body, until Juliana’s face was pressed against her own neck.

Valentina was wearing a tank top that left her upper chest bare, and Juliana rubbed her cheek against her, relishing the skin-on-skin contact. She breathed her in, and let herself relax for a moment, feeling her up, bodies melding together, arms tightening around Valentina’s slim waist, hands tangling into her dark blond strands. She felt something slotting inside her, almost like a physical click, making her feel immediately calmer.

Valentina had that effect on her. She had from the moment they met, all those years back. Juliana always felt calmer when she was around her. In those early days, she had sometimes felt angry with the world, with her lot in life, ready to fight anyone and anything to change Lupe’s and her own destiny.

Meeting Valentina had changed all that. Shifted the axis of her universe, bringing a calmness to the rough waters that stirred deep within her.

“Val,” she warned, “don’t even try it.”

Valentina slid her hand under Juliana’s shirt, caressing the skin there, the tips of her fingers dipping down the back of Juliana’s jeans, “try what, _mi amor_?” and taking advantage of the fact that Juliana’s hair was pulled up in a ponytail, she started to kiss her neck, soft lips leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.

“Valentina,” Juliana said softly, this time more a moan than a warning. Then, in a show of strength she did not know she possessed, she pushed her away. Valentina was not wearing a bra, and before she could stop herself, Juliana’s eyes fell to her chest. She blinked, blushing bright red with her immediate body reaction to the sight of Valentina's obvious arousal, which was visible through the thin cotton of her top.

Barely catching herself, she threw her head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment.

Once she had herself under control, Juliana smirked, amused at both of them, “why do you always do this, huh?”

Valentina also smiled; pupils so dilated Juliana could only see a sliver of blue in them.

Rubbing herself against Juliana just had that effect on her, “do what?”

Juliana caressed her arms and shoulders, keeping her at a small distance as Valentina tried to pull her closer again, “try to distract me,” she whispered.

Valentina smiled, and pushing a bit against Juliana, managed to steal a quick kiss. “_Te ves hermosa_, Juls.”

Juliana moaned quietly, her heart already beating fast, warmth travelling to her limbs and places south, but she held her ground. “Tell me about this stir your article is going to create.”

“Can I tell you later?” Valentina said as she gave her another kiss, and then, went for another. Juliana could not resist her, when Valentina was like this, all reaching limbs, kissing lips, and long fingers, so she removed her advantage: she took a step closer, hugging her fiercely, trapping Valentina’s arms between their bodies.

“Tell me now,” Juliana said into her neck, biting lightly.

Valentina moaned, and then, when Juliana stopped biting and just stood in her arms waiting, she breathed out in mild frustration. Finally, she hugged her back, sinking a bit into her, changing her stance to one of slight defeat.

“The stir?” Juliana insisted, “we can continue this _after_ you tell me.”

“You’re not going to like it, and then, you won’t be in the mood.” Valentina pouted; voice whiny.

Juliana only raised an eyebrow, and so Valentina finally confessed, “stir as in the FBI has contacted me and suggested we leave the country for a couple of weeks.”

“¿_Qué_?”

“I told you,” Valentina mumbled as Juliana pushed her back, so that she could make eye contact, “that you weren’t going to like it,” and she might have mumbled, _ahí se van mis chances_, under her breath.

Juliana pulled away, “sit,” she commanded, “explain.”

“I’m not a dog, you know,” Valentina complained, but took a seat anyway, crossing her arms in a small show of defiance.

Juliana reached out, uncrossing her arms gently and taking her hands between hers, “Val, please, what is this article about?”

Valentina shook her head, “I can’t tell you until we publish it,” she said, “it’ll be out tomorrow, on the Monday edition and-,” someone rang the bell. “Are we waiting for anyone?”

Juliana shook her head, “it must be the porter.”

“I’ll get it.”

xxx

What followed next happened in the space of twenty seconds.

Valentina opened the door to a man dressed in black from head to toe. She did not really see his face or notice much beyond the fact that he had a gun in his hand.

“Greetings from USCAN Petroleum,” he said and shot her.

Two more shots followed in close succession.

One hit the gunman in the back of his head, the other hit his neck. He was dead before he hit the floor, blood pooling under him. 

Valentina hit her head hard on the wall when she fell, losing consciousness for a moment. When she came back to herself, she heard a woman’s voice.

“991, how can I help you?”

“Send an ambulance to 331 West 17th Street, there’s been a shooting on the second floor.”

Valentina leaned against the wall, half-dazed. She was alright, the gunman had _missed_.

She looked up, trying to focus her eyes and find the voice.

There was a short-haired woman dressed in a dark grey suit standing by the door. She toed the man’s side, making sure he was dead.

Valentina shook her head, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The woman must be the one who made the call, and quite obviously, shot the man, too.

“I think he’s dead,” Valentina managed to say, slowly getting her bearings back. She had hit the wall quite hard, scratching the side of her face against it.

She was confused, moving in slow motion, like she was under water.

_Someone pushed her out of the way? What had happened, how had he missed?_

“The ambulance isn’t for him,” the woman said as she turned on her heel, leaving.

Valentina rubbed her forehead, trying to get the floor to stop gyrating under her. She felt heavy, like there was something weighting her down. She spaced out again for a few seconds, until finally, the fog lifted somewhat. She touched her head above her ear, a bump the size of an egg already forming, her fingers coming away with blood, from where she had hit the wall.

She tried to move her other arm, but it was trapped against-, “Juls?”

“Juls?” she called again, and the weight on her side shifted, “what? where-, Juls?” she started to panic. _Where was Juliana?_

She finally noticed, and did not understand how she had not realized it earlier, that the heavy feeling to her side was Juliana.

Juliana was lying on top of her.

Valentina felt her soul leave her body for a full second, before she could make her voice work, “Juliana!”

She moved her arm as gently as she could around her and turned her, so that she was lying on her back. Valentina was shaking so badly, she thought she was having a seizure, “Juliana, _por favor, por favor_, Juliana,” she shouted, crazed, still feeling fully out of her body.

Fortunately, before she could give herself a heart attack, Juliana blinked, brown eyes opening and settling on Valentina's face.

A sob escaped Valentina’s throat as she noticed a dark red patch growing under Juliana’s t-shirt, by her shoulder. “Juliana, you’re hurt, don’t move,” she whispered frantically, a bit calmer than a moment before, but still trembling hard.

Her hands ran over Juliana’s dark hair and face as the sound of distant sirens grew closer.

xxx

“Vale, calm down,” her mother whispered, “it’s only a flesh wound.”

“She was shot! Don’t tell me to calm down,” Valentina shouted. She was beyond herself, “where is she? What’s taking so long?”

“They have to stich her up, make sure everything’s alright,” she passed her arm around her shoulder, “Vale, I called our best plastic surgeon and she’ll make sure that the scar is reduced to a minimum, that’s why they’re doing this procedure in an operating room, _mi hija_,” she caressed her hair lightly, “I told you this before, but you’ve forgotten because you hit your head,” she tried to speak in a soothing tone, “you should go back to the ER, where Juliana left you, and have that bump checked.”

“Don’t, ok?” she held up her hand, “I _need_ to know she’s ok. I cannot lose her, I-, I-,” she was close to a nervous breakdown and knew it, she was almost panting, trembling so hard she had to lean against her mother.

She tried to breathe slower; calm herself down.

“Vale, please, sit down.”

She pushed her towards a chair, and Valentina finally acceded to sit. Her mother quickly checked her pupils.

“Vale, you have a concussion, _cariño_,” she said, “Juliana is fine,” she grabbed her chin and made her look at her in the eye, noticing that one of her pupils was reacting different than the other, “Juliana is fine,” she repeated, “I would not lie to you about this. She’s fine. I promise.”

_You also promised you were fine before you died_, was on the tip of Valentina’s tongue, but just then, they wheeled Juliana’s bed into the room.

Juliana looked sleepy, but was awake and smiling at Valentina, a large bandage covering her right shoulder and the top of her arm.

“Juliana,” she cried, and as soon as they hooked the bed to the wall, she jumped on it to lay with her, careful to move to the side that was unharmed.

Juliana blinked her eyes, turning to her, “Val? Why are you here? You should be in the ER.”

“Where were you? I woke up and you weren’t there,” Valentina whined. “I got scared.”

Juliana looked at Mrs. Carvajal, frowning. She had left Valentina at the ER after making sure she was settled, but obviously, the concussion was worse than she had originally thought, if Valentina could not remember that.

“She’s a bit confused,” María shrugged, “I’ll check the results from the CT scan, but she seems better now. I think it’s best she stays with you. She’ll be calmer. The stitches they gave you don’t really require you to stay overnight, but Vale should stay.”

María moved closer, caressing her daughter’s hair as she laid in bed, clutching Juliana’s arm and crying quietly. She spoke to Juliana as she pointed at the door. “There are two police officers keeping watch at the door, they will rotate overnight, ensure you girls are safe. There’s another Detective that wants to talk to you, but it can keep until the morning,” she rose to go, “I’ve checked with admin and it’s the same to them if you stay here or down in the ER, the doctor will come to check on Vale. She’s got full insurance beyond anything they’ve seen before.”

_We can pretty much give her the whole west wing, if she needs it._

The administrator had said once she logged Valentina’s data into the computer, eyes bulging.

xxx

They spent the night together, in the hospital, with Valentina waking up once having forgotten what had happened, before finally, in the morning, waking up to a sleeping Juliana.

She had a headache, but they were both fine.

She kissed Juliana awake. She needed to know she was well, see her beautiful eyes.

“Juls, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Val.”

They were sent home in the morning, after the doctor checked up on them.

“You scrambled your little eggs, Val,” Juliana whispered as she tenderly combed her fingers through her long hair, “are you feeling better?”

She was. Actually, she was quite upset, now that she knew Juliana would be alright.

“Juls, you idiot,” Valentina answered as she pulled Juliana’s hand away. “You careless, hero-complex, stubborn, _idiota_. What were you thinking? Throwing yourself over me like that? Do you think you’re superwoman? That you’re bulletproof?”

“No, I-,”

“I’m upset with you,” Valentina warned, not letting her finish, voice filling with tears, “I swear to god if you pull something like this again, I’ll-, I’ll-,” she shook her head, “I don’t know what I’ll do, Juls, but by god, it’ll be something drastic,” she finished wetly, already crying.

Juliana pulled her into her arms.

Valentina resisted only for a moment, allowing Juliana to comfort her, “I love you, Val,” she kissed her forehead, “_te amo_.”

“I love you too, Juliana,” she breathed, “_tanto, mi amor, te amo tanto_.”

xxx

The story ran that morning, on the Monday edition of the New York Times, the first online version appearing while they were asleep in bed, still at the hospital.

“_Oil companies knowingly killing the planet_,” run the headline.

The article named several oil companies that were selling contaminated gas, had been doing so for years. The article was a full expose, naming also at least twenty people involved in a massive cover-up that was a substantive contributor to climate change. It involved senators, governors, high-profile businessmen, and judges.

News about the shooting were kept quiet, not wanting to create any distraction from the main story.

“Do you think it’s over?” Juliana asked, as they watched CNN late that night. “Now that they’d not been able to stop the Times from printing the article?” María had told them that almost all TIA agents have been recalled back to their central offices in Madrid, the operational level of the _Mexico Lindo_ node going back to almost dormant.

Valentina’s phone had been ringing all afternoon. Fortunately, her senior colleague, Antonio Buenaventura, who also signed the article, was manning the desk and spoke to the press on their behalf. They had prepared several soundbites and videos explaining their findings, and Valentina’s and Antonio’s faces were all over the news.

She took a few calls live during the evening news, at their new appartment.

A black car had been waiting at the hospital entrance when they stepped out that morning. María had waved them over from it, and they had walked towards her, thinking it was an uber.

“It’s you!” Valentina said, recognizing the woman who stepped out of the car. “Juls, it’s her, the one I told you about, she saved us.”

“Girls, this is Dolores,” María introduced them. “Dolores, these are my daughter Valentina and her partner, Juliana Valdés.”

Dolores only nodded.

Of course, she knew. She knew all of them.

“Where are you taking us?”

“You need to find a new apartment,” Dolores told them, “the old one is still not safe. For now, I’ve found you a place you can stay at. This will likely die down in a few more days, once all the arrests are made you should be safe.”

Valentina nodded, “until the next scandal.”

“It seems publishing the article, seeing it through was the main event that needed to unfold,” Dolores told them. “We’ve been intervening in the background for a few weeks now, but this morning our shadows went quiet.”

“Shadows?”

“Other organizations that work against the timeline.”

Before getting in the car, Valentina noticed a man walking quickly towards them. She had seen Dolores tense and reach for her gun, and then, take a step to her left, to stand in front of Juliana. The man had quickly walked past them, oblivious to the close call with someone so obviously dangerous as Dolores.

Later, when they were at their new apartment, and Juliana was in the other room, putting away the few things María had brought for them from their apartment, Valentina brought it up.

“I saw you,” she said, “before, when you thought that man was coming after us. You stood in front of Juliana.”

Dolores looked at her in the eye, not saying anything for a long moment. She was obviously a woman of few words, but Valentina was a journalist, she knew how to work a silence.

Finally, Dolores shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m here to protect the timeline. That means prioritizing the safety of whichever asset is more valuable to secure it.”

“And that's Juliana?”

“You’re equal parts of _Mexico Lindo_," she smiled slightly, "but from having observed you, she’s more important to keeping _both of you_ safe and well.”

Valentina’s eyes rounded, “good,” she nodded and smiled brightly, “she is,” and reaching to pat her hand, she whispered, “thank you. You saved us. _Gracias, neta_.”

Dolores smiled, “_neta_ is not used like that in Castilian Spanish, you know?”

“Well, you guys are missing out,” Valentina laughed, “it goes with pretty much everything.”

Her mother said her goodbyes with a promise to come back the following day with more of their belongings, leaving with Dolores.

The flat was a small one-bedroom apartment. The bedroom had a small bed and a dresser, and barely enough space to fit even two people.

“¿_Es neta_?” Juliana asked that night when they finally decided to go to bed.

“_Neta_,” Valentina said, arms filled with blankets and pillows.

“You’re really going to sleep in the sofa?”

Valentina nodded. “I said I was upset with you, didn’t I?”

“Val, what did you expect me to do?” she tried to reason, “stand there and let him shoot you?” her voice rose as she spoke.

“You could’ve pulled me, or pushed, or-,” Valentina gesticulated as much as she could with her arms full, pillow dropping to the floor. She grabbed it almost violently, hitting her own knee with it, “I don’t know, ok? Just not jump in front of me!” she argued as she waved the pillow around almost comically. “Don't smile!" she shouted, "who’d do that, Juls? It’s reckless, it’s, it's idiotic, Juliana, that's what it is, and you’d no right to do it,” her voice lowered to a whisper then, and tears filled her eyes, “what if something had happened to you?” she said, voice rough, “it would’ve been my fault.”

“Val, love, come here.”

“No. No, I-, just-,” she breathed, “outside.”

Juliana shook her head, watching her leave the room. She would be upset too if Valentina had done something like what she did. She finished changing into her pajamas and walked to the other room, which served as a living room, kitchen and office. Valentina was sitting in the middle of the sofa, pillows and blankets surrounding her, crying quietly.

“Val,” she whispered, as she joined her on the sofa, hugging her tightly. 

They sat there for a long time, silent.

“Can you help me?” Juliana kissed her cheek lightly and pushed some of Valentina’s hair out of the way, behind her ear, “I need to clean the wound and change the dressing.”

Valentina rubbed her eyes and stood up, taking her hand and leading the way to the bathroom, making her seat while she carefully took care of her wound. She refused to make eye contact, almost as if she did not want to see that the wound belonged to Juliana’s body. As soon as she was done, she gave Juliana a quick kiss and bolted from the bathroom, leaving Juliana behind.

Juliana ran her good hand over her hair, frustrated.

She did not like it when they went to bed upset with each other.

xxx

It must have been around 3AM when Juliana felt the bed shift, “Juls, move.”

“Uhh-, what, _qué_,” she mumbled, half sleep.

“I’m still upset, but I can’t sleep without you.” 

Juliana moved in bed, giving her as much space as possible, and when Valentina finally settled, she turned to spoon her, warm arms going around her body, pulling Valentina into her, her breast and stomach pressing against her side, one of her legs moving on top of Valentina’s.

“You’re cold,” Juliana mumbled into her neck, burrowing her face there.

“It always happens,” Valentina confessed, “when you’re not around.”

xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry (>.<) This is the last of the drama. I promise.
> 
> ...In my defense, the source material is a telenovela, guys.


	7. Chapter 7

The following week passed by quickly. The authorities made several arrests linked to the news, and Valentina was interviewed by all types of media. She spent most of the week rushing in and out of the apartment, accompanied, always in the background, by Dolores. Juliana postponed her meetings in the financial district, not wanting to show up with any noticeable signs of the attack on their lives, to avoid having to explain their close call.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, only Sergio gave her a bit of trouble. Trying to make a big deal out of the change and offering to meet her for dinner on Friday.

“Look, Sergio, if you can’t reschedule, then you can’t,” she finally said, voice rising on the last word. She would not ask him for _any_ favors. Nor would she agree to meet with him anywhere but in their offices. “It’s up to you. Call back to this number if you find the time,” she said and hung up on him.

The flat they stayed at that first week after the shooting had a landline retro phone from the 70s, and Juliana felt a great satisfaction in slamming the phone back into the cradle.

_Twice._

“Juls, are you ok?” Valentina asked, approaching her from behind. Her fingers moved over Juliana’s back, trailing over the tense muscles there, and bringing with them an immediate shift in mood for Juliana, who leaned back unconsciously, seeking more of the touch. She reached up in frustration with both hands to comb her hair out of her face, momentarily forgetting about her shoulder. She hissed as a shot of pain moved up her arm and made her sway on her feet slightly.

Frustrated tears rose to her eyes.

_Why did she let Sergio wind her up like that?_

Valentina’s arms moved around her waist, pulling her more solidly against her frame, “hey.”

Juliana turned in her arms, cradling her injured arm to her chest and allowing Valentina to hug her. “You always smell so nice,” Valentina whispered, face pressing into Juliana’s neck, where she placed a soft kiss, “who was that on the phone?”

“Nobody.”

Valentina made a noncommittal sound, nuzzling a bit more into her neck. They stood in silence for a few minutes, just hugging and drawing comfort from one another.

“Sergio.”

“Hmm? What?” Valentina mumbled. She had been half asleep on her feet, relaxing in Juliana’s embrace to the point she had almost forgotten what they were talking about.

“Why is he calling you?”

“I told you, right? That he’s now with an investment bank downtown and they were at my show? There’s a potential investor with the fund he’s managing, and we had a meeting scheduled for Friday, but I’m postponing everything until things settle down.”

Valentina was quiet for a while. “I hate Sergio.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” She breathed out, voice taking a sharp edge, “I really do, Juliana, as in I should _not_ be trusted with sharp objects around him.”

Juliana laughed softly, knowing Valentina’s temper, but also, its aftermath, “you’re a foot taller than him, you’d feel bad if you did anything to him.”

Valentina raised a hand to her chest, feigning great insult, “what? Moi? I so wouldn’t, Juls, and no judge in the US would sentence me if I cut his tiny, little-,”

“Val,” Juliana interrupted her by giving her a swift kiss, “let’s not talk about that idiot.”

“Agreed.” Valentina shifted in their embrace, opening her lips as she kissed her back more fully. She pulled back after a moment, regret written all over her face, thumb rising up to brush Juliana’s lower lip, “I’ve got to go out, there’s a couple of interviews scheduled for this morning and then, we’re meeting up with the deputy attorney general later today, to go over some documentation,” she moved back, regarding Juliana in silence, her eyes unconsciously switching from looking between her eyes to her shoulder and back, “will you be ok here?”

“Yes, your mother called this morning and we’re having lunch together. Eva and Malu are coming to New York to visit her next week, so they’ll all drop by when we move back to our flat. We’re planning a family dinner together.”

“And dad?”

Juliana shrugged, never too bothered when he was not included. She never completely got used to having Valentina’s father inside Chino’s body, “well, I think it’s only girls, actually, but I’ll ask her when I meet her in Manhattan later.”

“Juls, no, no, no, you need to be careful, stay home, where are you going?”

Juliana grabbed her arm lightly, caressing the skin of her forearm. “Val, should I remind you that it’s you who’s in danger here, not me? Where are _you_ going?”

Valentina grimaced, “you’re hurt, Juls.”

“Your mother’s a doctor, you remember that, right?”

“Like I could forget,” she rolled her eyes, “why is your mother so obsessed with that? She’s been sending me messages saying how happy she is that my mom’s a doctor all week. I think I’ve somehow moved up in her estimation?” she moved to grab her jacket and bag from the table, searching for her iPad between the cushions of the sofa.

Juliana shook her head, “_Ay, Lupe_. Who can understand her? But, don’t change the topic, Val, _where_ are all these meetings?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Val.”

“What? So you can follow me and throw yourself in front of me if something happens?”

“Val.”

Valentina stopped moving through the flat and turned to look at Juliana, ready to fight.

She deflated immediately.

Juliana was gazing at her with that mixture of devotion and understanding that made it simply impossible to stay upset at her.

“I’m just scared, Juls,” she admitted, shoulders dropping, “what if they come back? What if they hurt you?”

Juliana closed the distance between them in two quick steps and hugged her gently. “Come here, you,” she whispered as she pressed herself as close as she could. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“I’m sorry that I wrote the article and put you in danger, Juls,” she admitted, voice low. She felt guilty for what had happened. She would have never forgiven herself if something had happened to her. 

“Val, what you’ve uncovered, it’s so important,” she breathed, “it may change the fate of the world a bit, you know? I’ve been watching the news. There was this scientist, from an European University, in Spain, I think? She was on TV before and she said that if this is true, the models that predict climate change could offer entirely new predictions once they put an end to this gas market.”

“Is this Dr. Saiz?”

“I think so? I didn’t catch her name.”

“Too busy looking at her _other_ qualifications?” Val teased as she winked, both eyes closing, “blonde? Really pretty?”

“Don’t be silly, I was _not_ looking at her like that.”

“Hmm-hmm.”

Juliana crossed her arms over her chest as she huffed, “ow,” she flinched as she pulled on her shoulder and glowered at Valentina.

“Admit it. You like, liked, her,” Valentina said, voice taking a ridiculous sign-song tone.

“You’re an idiot and I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Valentina just laughed, “I love you so much, Juls,” she gave her a kiss on the nose, “and I think she’s cute, too, but you're much, much cuter,” she gave her a quick pat on her butt as she walked out of the flat.

“I swear I don’t know why I put up with you!” Juliana said loudly at her retreating back, her bright white smile belaying her words.

xxx

They moved back to their own apartment two weeks later, the news finally dying down a bit, with all the arrests happening in the first few days. Valentina was advised to keep a low profile and work from home for at least a few weeks. She did not mind, as Juliana also took the time to start working on her new collection and designs.

They stayed inside, Valentina convincing Juliana to work mostly on the sofa, next to her, while she concentrated on her upcoming depositions and talked to both her lawyer and the lawyer of the Times.

_Most of the time, anyway._

“Val.”

“Juls.”

“Take your feet off my lap.”

“No.”

“Valentina Carvajal.”

Valentina jumped almost a foot in the air, “what! What?”

“You take your feet off Juliana this minute,” her mother reprimanded, “look at how she has to sit because you are pushing into her. You come help me and Eva in the kitchen.”

Valentina straightened up on instinct and then, eyed Juliana skeptically. She was smirking at her in something like triumph, a hand covering her mouth.

She frowned at her, and saw Juliana’s tongue peeking out of her mouth.

“Maaaaaaa,” Valentina groaned.

“_Ni ma, ni nada_,” María said sternly, “_ándale, va_,” she made a shooing motion with her hand, “come on, come on.”

Valentina dragged her feet as she followed behind. A small hand suddenly grabbed hers, pulling at her arm lightly.

“That never works with moms,” Malu confided gravely in a loud whisper, shaking her head and shrugging her tiny shoulders in sympathy.

That surprised a laugh out of Valentina, “it doesn’t, huh?”

“Nuh-uh,” Malu said, “they’re on to us.” This she said with great resignation.

Valentina nodded seriously to her little niece, smiling down at her. She made eye contact with Eva and her mother as she joined them in the kitchen. They were both smiling at them. Juliana touched her back lightly, as she joined all of them in the small kitchen. A furnace ignited where Juliana was touching her, warmth travelling up her side and hitting her chest with the heaviness of a bright blue sky falling on top of her.

It undid something inside of her, being there, sharing that space with Juliana, her mother, her family. It reached from the inside of her being, moving backwards in time and healing wounds that had been open for years.

For a moment, it was hard to breathe.

“Val,” she heard the whisper as Juliana’s arm went more fully around her waist, “what is it, _morrita_?”

She had started crying without noticing it.

“It’s nothing, _mi amor_.” She reached around Juliana’s shoulders, pressing her into her body and kissing her hair, “I’m just so happy to be here, with all of you.”

xxx

The following weeks were full of meetings for Juliana and of preparation for her depositions in court and in front of Congress for Valentina.

Juliana’s meetings looked promising, having almost secured one or two interested investors. She was close to signing a partnership with a venture capital firm, and only had left her meeting with Merrill to make a final decision.

“Our client is very impressed,” Sergio said, “and considering investing in your business,” he moved around the room, as he made a short presentation, “they’ve a particular interest in launching a chain of shops, as they hold quite a bit of real estate in downtown Manhattan. They’re offering, as part of the partnership, to sublet these spaces,” he pointed at the large screen behind him, showing a new slide with a few prime locations.

Juliana was impressed and did not want to show it. A shop in _any_ of those locations would be wonderful, but she was not sure about the scope of the launch, “I’m considering something smaller, perhaps opening just one shop to start with.”

“Well, this is of course possible, but our investor is looking for a large-scale investment. It could be timed over a number of years.”

Juliana was silent for a long time. 

“What about the other shoe?”

“What?”

“When is it dropping?”

Maybe it was blunt, but she was no fool. There must be a catch. In her experience, nothing that looked too good to be true was ever as good, or true.

The men seated at the other end of the table looked at each other for a moment. Then, at Sergio. He cleared his throat, “well, our client would give you free creative reign and only expect a return for their investment.”

“But?” Juliana asked, impatient.

“But,” he coughed, “they’d prefer you keep your personal life separate from your professional life.”

“Excuse me?”

Sergio took a breath, “you know.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

He waved his hand awkwardly, “your relationship with Valentina.”

Juliana sat back at that. She felt a flush travel up her chest and neck and was happy for her dark complexion. She stared at the men across from her, but they refused to make direct eye contact. She grabbed her folder as she breathed through her nose, counting inside her head to ten, and then, again, to ten. She collected her papers and designs, carefully placing them back where they should be. Her fingers trembled visibly.

She had not been prepared for a personal attack. How foolish of her. 

“I think we’re done talking,” she said as she stood up, “I’ll show myself out.”

She was almost in the street when Sergio caught up with her.

“Juliana!”

She kept walking, but he grabbed her arm, “don’t touch me,” she hissed as she turned around.

“Juliana, don’t be ridiculous, this is the best deal you could ever get. Valentina would want you to accept it.”

“She wouldn’t!” she said louder than she had intended, “I’m not being pushed back into any closets,” she seethed, “much less by_ you_. Stay away from us.”

xxx

She was shaky and moody all afternoon.

It was not uncommon for her to face outright homophobia, but she had not expected it. She had thought people in the financial district were strictly about business. It had blindsided her.

“Juliana,” Valentina whispered, having observed her for a while in silence. “Tell me?”

“It’s nothing, Val. Don’t worry.”

“Please?” she asked, “don’t keep me out?”

“I’m not, Val, it’s,” she took a breath, “the meeting at Merrill didn’t go well.”

Valentina grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into her lap.

Juliana sat stiffly for a moment, before releasing a deep breath and letting herself be held. Valentina breathed almost in sync, relieved, her arms going more fully around her, fingers lightly caressing as they moved over her back and side, a hand going to Juliana's hair, combing through the soft dark strands and pushing them away from her face.

It had taken her years, but Valentina had learned to stay silent.

To provide comfort, and then, wait.

Waiting did not come easy to her. It was a learned skill, one she was yet to perfect. 

It took about five minutes for Juliana to finally relax fully in her arms, her face going into Valentina’s neck, “Sergio's a moron.”

“I hate him,” Valentina replied immediately, making Juliana snort.

“No, really?”

“Really. This is actually a favorite topic of mine,” Valentina nodded and gave her a quick kiss, trying to lighten up the somber mood that had fallen upon them, “are we going to insult him? I’m like _campeona del mundo_ in dissing Sergio, that slime-ball, good for nothing, _pendejo del demonio, caido de un_-,”

“Val,” Juliana laughed lightly, “it wasn’t his fault, well, not completely.”

“Tell me?”

“They had an investor.”

“Hmm.”

“Who wanted us in the closet.”

Valentina’s eyes went round, “what.”

“I told them where they could shove that business proposal.”

Valentina kissed her ear, “well done.”

“_Me haces cosquillas_,” Juliana squirmed in her arms moving her ear away from Valentina’s lips. “It’s ok, I have another investor, but I’m just not sure if it’s going to be enough right now, I might have to delay the-,”

“Juls,” Valentina’s hand moved to her cheek, lightly pressing, turning her face to make eye contact. They were seated in their living room, Juliana sitting sideways on her lap, one of her hands playing with the tips of Valentina’s long hair. Valentina had one arm around her waist, keeping her firmly pressed against her, while her other hand caressed her cheek, her hair.

She took a deep breath and said what had been on the tip of her tongue for years now.

“Let me invest.”

Juliana looked at her seriously. “Val.”

Valentina reached with her thumb to smooth out the skin between Juliana’s brows, easing the frown that had formed there. “Hear me out, Juls,” she pleaded. “Look, it’s a bit like Facebook or Apple, right?”

“How.”

“Well, people bought like fifty shares at the beginning and then, they were worth millions. You have to allow the people who love you to invest, Juls. Otherwise, when your stock is worth millions,” she gesticulated, “well, maybe billions! it’ll be people like Milagros becoming filthy rich on your success.”

Juliana scoffed at that. “Milagros would never buy shares of a fashion label.”

“Also, I’d only be buying one-for-one. I mean, I would only buy if there was another buyer.”

“But that’s still a lot of money, Val.”

“Right, but it means you’ll always own your own firm, Juls. If you keep even just one share for yourself, and I buy one-to-one for every share that is sold, you’ll always own over 50% of the stock,” she smiled, “I don’t want you to ever lose ownership. This is your dream, your life,” she took a breath, “look, Juls, you just _have_ to let me protect it, ok? It’s a part of you,” she reached for her hand tentatively, giving it a small squeeze, and then, moved their joined hands to Juliana's chest, over her heart. She pouted, “please, Juls? ¿_Por favor_?”

Juliana looked at her, eyes filling with tears. “Like Facebook and Apple, huh?”

Valentina laughed, “much better than those _gringos_.”

It was not that easy to convince Juliana, because money was always a hard subject with her, but Valentina made a strong case, the one-for-one deal made sense, and meant they could retain ownership of the business down the line, which was something that Juliana wanted.

“I’ll buy them back,” she said a few nights later, as they settled in bed.

Valentina smiled brightly at her, “you don’t have to, they’re yours, Juls.” She had planned to buy them in her name, anyway.

“I still want to pay back.”

Valentina moved in bed, her legs intertwining with Juliana’s, hips pressing together.

“Don’t try to distract me.”

“I’m not,” she whispered against her lips, “I’ve been thinking about you all day, _mi amor_.”

And she had.

She always did.

She spent the day thinking about Juliana, daydreaming about what they would eat for dinner, wondering what she was doing, sending her a dozen silly messages throughout the day, and then, running up the last few steps to reach the door of their flat, too impatient to wait for the lift. It was rare for Valentina not to arrive home and make a beeline for Juliana.

All those years back, when they first met, Valentina had been so naive, they both had; really, but she was the one who had had boyfriends, sex, _all of it_, she had thought.

She had not understood _any of it_, how overwhelming love could be, the physicality of it. How she would crave not only Juliana’s company, her quiet strength, wise advice, and light humor, but also her smell, the touch of her skin, the softness of her hair against her, her moans and sights of pleasure.

Valentina had expected fireworks and then, given up on them. And unexpectedly, they have found her. With Juliana, a well of desire sprung in her like she could have never imagined, fireworks exploding like bolts of lightning that ignited deep in her and traveled outwards through her limbs, electrifying her, and leaving her quivering and spent. The joy and pleasure she had found in Juliana’s arms were addictive. A fever of delight, a highness that stole all her senses.

She breathed her in, pressing her nose against Juliana’s, “do you want to know what I’ve been thinking about?”

Juliana took a shaky breath, as she pressed her hips more firmly against Valentina’s, “let’s hear it.”

xxx

The day before the grand opening of her shop, Juliana gave Valentina a private tour.

The walls of the shop were lined up with the new summer collection, with her most popular designs, in all sizes, towards the back of the shop. “We hired an expert in marketing to give us advice on how to set up the different lines,” Juliana explained, “people searching for a particular well-known piece are likely to keep looking until they find it at the back, and hence, they'll see all the new designs, and perhaps, try out a few things in addition to what they were searching for originally.”

She pulled on Valentina’s hand, dragging her towards the back of the shop, where the second counter was located. A large box was placed on top of it.

Juliana moved them towards it. “I've something for you.”

“Juls, you shouldn’t have.”

“Valentina, you’ve given me my dream, and-,”

“You’re my dream.”

Juliana rolled her eyes, “don’t try to outdo me. I’m being romantic, here.”

“I’m sorry,” Valentina laughed.

“You’re not.”

“I’m not,” she kissed her lightly, “_Te amo_,” she gave her another kiss, “and I’m so proud of you, Juls, _mi vida_, you’ve worked so hard for this, and-,”

“Val,” Juliana interrupted, rising a finger to touch her plump lips, “_cállate_.” 

They both laughed. Then, Juliana pointed with her chin, “open your present.”

Valentina's eyes misted over as she moved the lid out of the way.

It was a dress, “Juliana, what-,” her hand covered her mouth as she took in the details. It was beautiful, one of Juliana’s finest creations; and obviously too, a bridal gown, “what-, for a wed-, Juls, what’s this?”

Juliana reached to gently take one of Valentina’s hands, gesturing with her other hand, arm opening wide, pointing towards the shop.

“It’s like you said, right?” she smiled in excitement, eyes bright, “_¿Ves?_ I have a shop just like that one you took me to, you remember that day? Before Guille’s birthday?”

Juliana could recall every moment of that day. How they have met in the park, her pride deflating at the feel of Valentina in her arms. How easy it had been afterwards to say yes. Yes, to the party, to going to the shop, to trying out all those outfits. Yes to a dress that cost more money than her mother and her made in a year. 

Valentina also remembered. The relief at finally, finally, breaking through some of Juliana’s walls. The feeling that had traveled up her body when she allowed herself to really look at Juliana in that dress.

She nodded, hand over her mouth, eyes still wide open, staring at the wedding gown Juliana had just gifted her, something monumental shifting inside her, recoiling and biting at her heart, making it jump inside her chest as her eyes shifted nervously between the dress and Juliana.

“I’ve never had such a nice dress before,” Juliana continued speaking, her eyes looking right at Valentina, making her feel like she was staring into her very soul, “never tried on such fine clothing in my life. I couldn’t believe it was me when I saw myself in that mirror.”

Valentina nodded and tried to speak. She had to swallow a few times to form words, voice coming out rougher and lower than her usual timbre. “_Estabas muy guapa_, Juls. I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Juliana took again Valentina’s hand from where her fingers were caressing the soft material of the dress, and softly kissed her knuckles. She reached for the hanger, stretching the dress out in front of Valentina.

She glanced for a moment at the dress, and then, back to Valentina’s eyes.

“Val, _cariño_, you’re the love of my life,” she smiled sweetly at her, “this is the dress I owed you.”

xxx


End file.
